Flames
by Nymphchild
Summary: After the death of his wife and daughter John Rollins has no idea how to get rid of the cursed scarecrow that is plaguing his farm and his land. He searches for outside help and finds a Hoodoo spell breaker who can help him fix the problem and deal with the trauma that weighs on him and his son. John/ OC. Rated M for violence, language, adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the movie or own Norman Reedus. I wish I did…but slavery is illegal. **

**Pairing: John/ OC maybe eventually. **

**Summary: After the death of his wife and daughter John Rollins has no idea how to get rid of the cursed scarecrow that is plaguing his farm and his land. He searches for outside help and finds a Hoodoo spell breaker who can help him fix the problem and deal with the trauma that weighs on him and his son. **

**Reviews and Flames: I do not deal with flames. Period. If you don't have something nice to say don't say anything at all. I will report bad attitudes. This is just for fun…and if its not fun than you don't have to read. On that note I do love reviews though and will continue based on reviews. I try to comment to each review given. **

**Rating: M for violence, adult situations, themes that may be disturbing. **

**Themes: Supernatural/ Horror. I will be including some religious themes in this too as to parallel to the movie. Please be aware that I am not a Hoodoo expert but I do and have been doing research on the Hoodoo practices. **

**Alright everyone this is my Messengers 2 Fic. In this story line only John and his son Michael Survived the assault of the Scarecrow. **

**Chapter One:**

Cece Lauren pulled her black pickup truck into the abandon Rollins farm. She frowned at the faded police tape but the place looked pretty much deserted. She wanted to check it out herself with a clean slate before she heard the owner tell her his experience. She wanted to feel the energy without being tainted by his opinion.

She had told May, the owner of the shop and her teacher, that it was a waste of time; that the owner was probably just some crazy person again that had watched too many horror movies and was spending too much time in his fields. Then came the obituary for his wife and daughter slammed on the counter by the old African American woman. After about a week she had found the ones of a banker and another citizen. She didn't have much choice after that.

She parked the truck and pulled up her messenger bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She looked around in the bright sun light for a moment, playing with the beads around her wrist. Closing her eyes she muttered a quick prayer to Saint Barbara and crossed herself. "Okay." She whispered before stepping out and making her way to the barn.

She looked around as she walked, ducking under the police tape. She pushed the strawberry curls away from her eyes and frowned at the blood on the ground.

"Well you're an aggressive thing aren't you…" She murmured, dragging her fingers along the blood smeared ground. It was black by now, seeped into the hay. She let out a breath through her nose and walked over to the croft, picking up an ear of corn and looking at the chunks taken out of it. Aggressive disease and eating. It was trying. It had wanted Mr. Rollins to search out a solution.

He could be lying, her mind nagged at her. It might not be a scarecrow at all. It couldn't be. They were all meant to be gone. It might have been back firing spells or magic. All that death before his family could have been blood magic taking its pound of flesh. She took out her camera and took a picture of the blood on the ground, than of the croft. Then she picked up an ear of the corn and took a picture.

She tossed the ear down and went back towards the house, pausing at the barn door she took a picture of the entire interior. Again she moved under the police tape, looking at the homey country farm house. She stopped when she saw a cross knocked around on the wall. Frowning, she straightened it and continued to look around.

"Normal people." She muttered, shaking her head. There was no damage to the inside of the house. A small blessing. If Rollins was crazy this would be where most of the violence would have taken place. Here and the field.

She leaned against the counter in the kitchen, helping herself to a glass of water while not taking her eyes from the corn field. She took a sip before spitting it into the sink quickly. "What the hell?" She muttered, looking into the foggy glass. "Crow shit? Really?" She muttered. She slammed the glass down into the sink and stormed outside.

Taking the steps two at a time she pushed her way across the yard and into the field. Keeping her hands up, she moved the stalks and ears out of the way. She kept her ears and eyes open for movement or voices. She couldn't hear or see anything but she definitely felt something. It thickened the air and clung to her. She shivered in the hot sun.

"I can feel you." She called out into the rows. She continued her walk towards the center of the field and stopped by the last row of towering corn.

She bit her lip as she looked up at the ominous figure and let out a little breath. "Hi there…I respect your power." She whispered cautiously to the in animate object as she checked one of the healthy looking ears of corn. She peeled back the husks and frowned at the perfect yellow, glowing cornels. "I mean no harm to you." She reached into her bag and took the camera out. "Aren't you pretty?" She asked with a little forced smile, taking the picture.

She cautiously stepped closer, still squinting up at the scarecrow. She looked down at the beam and saw blood caked into the cracks and dried along the grain. She ran her hand along the dried space.

"Old farmer Billy Bob tried to take you down huh?" She asked. "Now why would he go and do a fool thing like that?" She looked up at it. "You gave him everything he wanted didn't you? Ouch!" She winced and sucked on her finger and the splitter that had become embedded into her skin.

She turned sharply as she heard a giggle coming from the field. "Okay…I'm leaving. I'm not going to hurt you." She backed away from the structure, still looking at it with her head cocked to the side and her finger in her mouth.

She slipped through the field, sure not to run and loose herself. Jumping back into her car she gunned the engine and pealed out of the farm. Once she was far enough away from the farm to know that it wasn't coming after her yet she pulled the car over and looked at her finger. The piece of wood was lodged and small drops of blood ozzed out around it. She winced as she sucked it out, tossing the splinter out of the window.

"Fucking curses!" She yelled, slamming her hands on the wheel.

* * *

The door to the motel opened slowly. Michael peeked out of the crack at the young woman standing there. She had big green eyes that smiled down at him.

"Hi there." She said to him her friendly slightly Cajun accent funny to the young boy. He opened the door more at the sound of her voice and the friendly smile that graced her pink lips. "What's your name sweetheart?"

"Michael." He told her shyly.

"Michael who is that?" Came a voice from inside. A strong, large hand pulled the door totally open and a pair of blue eyes met hers. "Who are you?" Without waiting for an answer he slung a flask of water at her face.

Cece closed her eyes and leaned to the side, spitting the water out of her face and mouth. "Really?" She asked him. "You called me and then you throw holy water in my face? Is that how people from Oklahoma greet everyone?"

John Rollins frowned. He had spent months trying to find someone who could help. Either they thought that he was crazy or…he thought they were a bit off their rockers. He'd had a few fridge Christian groups come out and try to preform exorcisms and rituals but they were all bogus. Auntie May's House of Herbs shop was the first place that he had called that had actually seemed sane, asking him questions carefully and seeming to know where he came from. The older woman on the phone had been compassionate and kind, telling him that she would send one of her practitioners out…even all the way from Louisiana. "You're from that Voodoo place I called?"

"Hoodoo." She corrected, rubbing her face off. "It's Hoodoo, not Voodoo. There's a big difference. And that depends. Are you John Rollins?"

"Yeah, yeah." He said flustered. "I'm sorry." He rubbed the back of his head before clenching at his son. "We're both still a little bit jumpy I guess. You're just not what I…expected."

She nodded as he let her into the room that they had been living in for the past six months. "You were expecting someone…blacker? Little bit racist Mr. Rollins." She muttered with a chasseur cat like smile, looking around at all of the cheap protective signs he had tried to put up from various books of Christian lore. "Michael is this your dream room?" She asked the boy with a smile. She couldn't help it. She loved kids…she was drawn to make them feel comfortable and protect them. The boy laughed and she turned to bend down to him. "I'm Cecelia…but you can call me Cece."

"You're voice is funny." The boy told her and she laughed, making John feel a little bit more comfortable.

"I bet it is. But I think your voice is the funny one." She stood up and looked at John. "Your charms. They're wrong."

John frowned and looked around, tearing his eyes away from the woman. No, she was not what he had expected. For one, she was right…she wasn't African American. She had porcelain skin and clearly Cajun from the sound of her voice. And she was young…beautiful really if he was allowed to say that, probably in her mid to late 20's with a head of apricot hair so red it lit up the room. It was wavy and wild, like twisting flames, refusing to be tamed.

"I went to your farm today."

John looked at her sharply when she said it. "Maybe we should talk about it outside Cece." He told her glancing at his son.

Cece quirked an eyebrow at him. "After soaking me with holy water, you can call me Cecelia." She told him solidly. John nodded quickly, still nervous. He was a good Christian man…he wasn't sure calling a Voodoo or Hoodoo…witch…person…thing, was the right thing to do. But this thing had killed his wife and daughter. He had to find a way to stop it. He had to protect his son.

"Dad…" Michael said, worried about being left alone. It had been a while since the incident, 6 months at least but they were still jumpy.

Cece caught the fear in his voice right away, glancing at his father. John was not the hick Billy Bob that she had been expecting. He had soft eyes and a sweet face, clearly showing when he looked at his last remaining family member. "Its okay Michael." John said. "We'll just be right outside."

Michael shifted on his feet, sharing his father's nervous energy. Cece smiled at him slightly and opened her bag, pulling out a small pouch with a string on it. "Here Michael." She bent down and put it around his neck. "That's Angelica Root…they say that it's made from angel wings and it protects anyone who wears it from all the bad stuff out there."

Michael picked up the little bag and looked at it, than at her. "Does it work?" He asked.

Cece rubbed his arm before she got up. "Hasn't ever not worked for me. We'll be right outside."

John opened the door and let her slip out before him, watching his son studying the bag. He was thankful for her comfort of his son, even if he didn't believe in it. He shut the door behind them and walked out into the night air with the girl. She pulled herself up to sit on the railing with ease as he leaned his back against it.

"So…Cecelia." John started nervously. "You went to the farm."

Cece nodded at him, watching his face. "Yeah. You definitely have a land curse out there." She told him.

John looked at her sharply. "It's the scarecrow. It killed my family…tried to kill my son."

Cece gave a calm nod. "Look Rollins. Don't take this the wrong way but I don't take people at face value. If you dug up your own shit storm than I am not going to put myself at risk for some sorry ass farmer that was so desperate that they got in bed with the devil. Did you bring this on yourself?"

"What?" He asked her sharply.

Cece sighed and watched him as she played with an old silver cross around her neck. "Did you use black magic to get your luck back up? Could this be just a reaping of the pound of flesh that it's owed?"

John pushed himself away from the railing and looked at her, gritting his teeth. "Look Cece,"

"Cecelia." She corrected him.

John narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sure that you're used to dealing with different kind of people but I am a good man who was trying to protect his family! I put up some scarecrow that I found in the barn and suddenly everything that I loved was dying around me. I don't know what kind of low life's you're used to dealing with but I'm a god fearing man!"

Cece stood up, her eyes looking him up and down. John felt himself bristle under the heated eyes. She might turn him into a toad or something at this rate. He'd learned from Miranda: beautiful, mysterious women were never to be under estimated.

Her eyes darted to the chair by the door with his father's old bible sitting on it. "Apparently not god fearing enough." She finally told him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Zeyden****: I have plans for it. Cant say its as Smutty as My Red Canyon fic cause John is just not like that but it would be interesting. **

**Leyshla Gisel**** : You're welcome darling! I hope you like it! **

**WaterWarrior6****: It was a reference/ throw back lol. **

**Forever Fanfiction Lover22****: Lol I'm going at it from a more horror angle than Gurl did so it should have a totally different feeling. **

**NormanReedus****: You're wish is my command!**

**WinterIsComing1015: Lol yes that would totally help! Umm...they would have it on netflix I think. I got it at a used movie store but of course there is amazon as well. I've been working to expand my reedus collection. Yes, Cece is my OC. She should be as interesting as the rest of them. You should Check out my Red Canyon Story too. While her job is not super interesting she defiantly is.**

**I want to remind everyone that Gurl does have a group which I help moderate called The Reedus Movement, which is posted in the Forums Section of FFN. Please run over there and take a look at it! **

**Just a warning that there are some religious aspects in this chapter that help explain Cece that might not be appealing to everyone. I'm just going off the research that I've done into Hoodoo. **

**Chapter two: **

"I don't know if it's a land curse or the Scarecrow." Cece said into the phone.

May made a noise of acknowledgement on the other end of the phone lines. "You've never had a scarecrow before." She murmured, her deep Cajun accent daunting Cece's lighter one.

Cece leaned back against the old motel bed frame. "Yeah, because there aren't supposed to be any left." She muttered, thinking back on the old stories and lessons. "I'm going to operate like it's a land curse." She told the other woman. "Salt some of the ground around the perimeter, make sure that it can't spread." Again May grunted. Cece took a deep breath. "You didn't tell me Rollins had a son." She said slowly.

"Does that bother you darlin'?" The old woman asked. "Or motivate you?"

Cece scrunched up her nose. "Both I suppose." She murmured. "I have to go to Church. Or I'm going to be late."

"Careful cher. People up there aint gunna look favorably on our kind of religion."

Cece snorted. "Yeah I got that from Rollins reaction. He looks at me like I might burst into flames if I step foot into a church."

May's smoke filled voice laughed heartily. "Go on then. Say your prayers sweet girl…and hope that its not a scarecrow. Those things…they were vicious. The last one I had was in the 1940's. It was killing for decades."

Cece frowned. She had only read about scarecrows. From what she had read she didn't want to be up against one. They had been vile creatures and they were meant to be all gone from this world. They couldn't be made anymore, not that anyone would really want to. She wanted to think that it was a land curse…that she was feeling jumpy herself and that's why she had thought that the scarecrow felt so odd. Still she couldn't ignore it.

John looked up from where he was drinking his morning coffee, seeing Cece come out of her room and lock the door behind her in the building to the left and front of them. He frowned when he saw the black lace dress that fell to her knees and the short heels that she wore. She wasn't going to the farm like that was she?

He peeked into the door to see that Michael was still asleep since it was only six thirty in the morning. Grabbing his keys he climbed into his truck and waited until she pulled hers out. Once she was out of the parking lot he started his and followed the black F150 down the old roads.

He was suspicious of the girl, untrusting. He didn't understand what she was doing. She wasn't telling him what her plan was or what she was going to do to get rid of the problem. She said she was going to help but how could she? He expected someone older to come out. Someone who knew what they were doing.

Frowning he saw the black truck parked in the abandon lot of an old church. There was no mass going on. No reason for a witch to be here. He parked his own truck on the side of the lot, out of view and made his way to the open doors, hiding against one.

Cece was kneeling in the empty structure on the steps of the alter. Her hands weren't clasped together but from her head tilted down, red hair falling around her face he could tell that she was praying. What kind of a witch came to a church to pray?

"Lord," She muttered out loud. "Protect your servant's…protect me. If your will was to test my faith and abilities by bringing me to this horrible devil than let it be done as you wish. Protect me as you always have from its evil. Protect me from the cancer that it spreads." She took a deep breath and John watched with a raised eyebrow as her back slouched and she looked up at the alter. "And please PLEASE. I'm begging. Protect the boy…I didn't know there was a son and if this is your way of testing me I will make any sacrifice you want. Take me…take the father. But don't take the boy."

John let out a little breath. Was she talking about his son? About Michael? What did she care? How could she care after meeting him only once?

She turned at the sound of his breath, eyes flashing with anger as she caught his. "Do you spy on people often when they are praying?" She asked bitterly. Before he could answer she turned back and crossed herself with a few strange words that he didn't know. Rising from the floor she walked over to where he stood at the door, moving past him with an annoyed look on her pretty face.

"I didn't know your kind prayed." John said following her out into the sun.

"My kind?" She asked him. "You know nothing about my kind or me."

John stopped and watched her get into her truck in surprise before rushing after her. "And you don't know anything about me!" He said, bracing his hands on the window frame and looking at her. "You don't know what it's like…what I've seen! You don't know what it's like to lose your family!"

Cece looked at him sharply, gritting her teeth and pushing her red hair away from her face. "You don't know anything about me or what I've lost! Obviously!" She told him, gunning the engine and making him jump back from the car.

* * *

John frowned as he looked over the internet page explaining what Hoodoo was. Folk Lore and remedies tied into no actual religion but with ties to old Christian practices. He frowned and rubbed his head as he read about it. It wasn't harming…not like Voodoo that had an actual organized religious tendons. It was tradition. Many of the practitors practiced various forms of Christianity and Jewish since many of the traditions were based on the teachings of the old testament and Torah He hadn't known that. Some old religious texts even described Moses as the first Hoodoo man. Hence the name Papa Moses woven into old blues songs.

Leaning back in the chair he wondered about where she had learned all of this. He wondered what she had lost that had lit a fire in her eyes so burning that he felt like he might dissolve under it.

* * *

Cece frowned as it got closer to dusk, walking around the farm with a large bag of raw salt. It was almost empty, the canvas flapping and making her salt lines uneven and messy. She walked back to the front of the farm close to the house, seeing Johns truck parked next to hers. He was leaning heavily against the hood, watching the field with nervous eyes.

"Rollins." She greeted, tossing the empty bag in with the others. "You shouldn't be out here…its getting late."

John nodded and stepped away from the truck, helping her pull bag from her truck bed. "Neither should you. When it kills it seems to do it mostly at night." He didn't know much about the girl besides that she was a bit prickly with him. But he couldn't blame her for that. He was jumpy with her too.

Cece watched as he took out a utility knife and slit open the bag. "Just the corner." She instructed, watching as he did it. "It's easier to drive people to do things at night. They freak out more easily. I'm almost done with this though."

"Then you'll go?" John asked.

Cece shook her head as she watched his strong arms lifted the bag. "I'm staying tonight…at least for a bit. I want to see if I can latch onto its…energy I guess you would call it."

"No!" John said quickly. "No you can't stay here." It would lay her little body with the rest in the field.

Cece frowned and took the bag from him, starting to pour a thick line across the front row of the field. "What did you think I was going to do Rollins? Pray it away from the motel?"

John gulped down and looked out the field. "It will kill you."

Cece gave a little smile as she finished laying down the line. Okay, so he was a good person. She got that. He didn't like her but that didn't mean that he wanted her to die. She turned back to him and dropped the bag to the ground. "No." She said coming over to him. "If it is a land curse, it wont hurt me if I've salted the ground. But if it's the scarecrow…it will try to drive me insane first."

John frowned and pulled out his cell phone. He called up one of his few old friends that still talked to him and asked if he would stay with Michael for the night.

"What are you doing?" Cece asked him crossing her arms over her chest.

John pushed the phone back into his pocket. "This is my farm. I'm staying."


	3. Chapter 3

**Forever Fanfiction Lover22****: Gunna get into the action fast in this one! Yay! **

**Zeyden****: Oh yeah, super intense. **

**coconutcarter****: Lol And I love that you call me Nymphie! I love Cajun and Creole accents. I really wish I had one! They just sound so damn cool! The son will actually play a huge part in their relationship and how they learn to identify with eachother. **

**WaterWarrior6****: Kind of warming but its going to take some time. **

**Leyshla Gisel****: So sweet. After Writing Mac and Marco so much I just had to write a sweet Norman for a little while. **

**WinterIsComing1015****: Dude I am actually mortally afraid of scarecrows. My husband wanted to put one of those cute ones up for Halloween…you know with the smiling face and freckles. I freaked out. I don't know why…I think it was an episode of the x-files that my parents let me watch when I was way too young. You will learn more about her past over time and why she can do all of these things. **

**And yes "Lord" is the Christian lord. In my research I found that Hoodoo isn't actually like Voodoo. It doesn't have any actual spiritual doctrine and instead is a collection of beliefs that piggy backs off of another religion…normally catholism since that was the regional religion where many of the practitioners lived. Super interesting. **

**Chapter Three:**

John sat at the dining room table watching Cece, who was sitting sideways on the counter and looking out the window. Her legs were propped up in front of her, curled close. She was playing again with the small metal that was around her neck. "What is that?" He finally asked her.

Cece tore her eyes away from the corn to look at him before looking down at the metal in her hand. "Saint Barbara." She told him with a small smile down at the pendent. "She's the patron saint of sudden death."

John gave a little laugh, drawing her eyes up to him quickly. "Sorry, sorry. You're just a little ray of sun shine aren't you?"

Cece couldn't help but grin. "Hey! If you saw me walking down the streets at home you would think that I was sunny! What would you guess I would be?"

John looked her over for a moment, pursing his lips together as he thought. He looked at her wild hair, pulled back into a messy bun on the back of her head. His mind slipped to the way she interacted with Michael. "Kindergarden teacher."

This pulled a loud laugh from her that seemed to fill the dining room. He couldn't help but smile. That was a 'sunny' sound. "Kinder garden teacher? Really?"

John leaned back and nodded. "Yeah…what about me?"

Cece leaned her temple on her knees and looked at him. "I would always guess a farmer." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "It's the build." She told him. Sun stained skin, broad shoulders, rough hands, muscular arms and chest….yeah, always a farmer.

John watched her looking at him. He had to admit, she was attractive…extremely attractive with an odd sort of exoticness. It had to be the apricot hair, always so wild and untamed, even when she tried to restrain it. Her big green eyes were alluring, like you could disappear into them. "How did you learn to do all of this?" He asked her, trying to distract himself.

"May…the woman you talked to on the phone." Cece said simply.

"Why?"

Cece shifted, pulling her head off her knees. "Why the sudden interest?" She asked back.

John shrugged. "I guess…you're just putting your life at risk for us. I feel like I should know a little bit more about you."

Cece glanced back out the window. "Better you don't." John frowned and she looked back at him with a sigh. "_My kind_, as you called them. We don't put down roots. We're nomads, travelers. We always have been. We move from town to town, breaking curses, passing out healing remedies. Its just what we've always done. When we get older some of us have a shoppe like the one you called. People like May who are unbelievably good. Than they send people like me out…apprentices really. The cycle has gone on for centuries. Maybe someday I'll be good enough and old enough…but not today. And I probably won't live long enough to make it to that tomorrow." She mused to herself, playing with the pendant again and looking out the window.

John frowned as he listened to the accented voice. He'd grown up on a farm. He'd always had roots. He couldn't imagine a life like that…a life with no one to go back to. A life knowing that you were going to die before you could grow old. Suddenly all of his financial problems didn't seem so bad. He found that he pitied her for it; wished she had something more than that.

He looked up as she pulled herself up suddenly, standing and leaning on the counter, eyes locked out the window. "What? What is it?" He pushed himself up quickly and came next to her at the window.

"I feel it." She whispered, tilting her head to the side and closing her eyes. John watched as her throat worked for a moment as though she was trying to think and feel something harder. "Well not it…but something." She pulled herself away from the counter. "Stay here." She told him. John made a move to follow her but she held her hand out through the doorway to the kitchen. He turned back to the window.

Cece walked slowly down the porch steps, watching and waiting. She took cautious even strides over towards the field, stopping a few feet from the irrigation pump as it turned on, spraying water along the field and salt. She glanced at it and frowned deeply. She looked back up as the stalks began to shake.

A blond woman stepped out, stopping in front of the thick salt line that was now becoming drenched. She looked at it skeptically. "Well you know your shit. I will give you that." She said.

Cece cleared her throat as she watched the blond step over it. "Death omen." She said to her in greeting.

The blond raised an eyebrow at her but was smiling a small sadistic smile. "You're friend John calls me Miranda."

Cece nodded. "Maybe you used to be…but you're not anymore right? You're tied to the land."

Miranda circled her and Cece followed her with her eyes. "I'm tied to the scarecrow."

"Damn." Cece said letting out a breath. She really, really wanted it to be a simple land curse. She knew how to break a land curse. "Or should I say 'Damned'."

Miranda stopped in front of her. "Yeah, damned sounds about right. Just like everyone the scarecrow kills…your new boyfriend is about to figure that one out conjurer."

Johns head snapped away from where he was watching Cece walk down the steps at the sound of something from upstairs. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his utility knife, the only thing that he had on him and made his way to the stairs, climbing up them slowly, his eyes darting from side to side.

He frowned when he heard the shower running in the bathroom down the hall, making his way to it he turned at the old copper knob. When he pushed it open a strangled sound came from his chest at the sight.

"Daddy?"

"Rollins!" Cece screamed, running into the house and looking into the kitchen, knowing already that he wouldn't be there. "Shit! Rollins!" She grabbed her bag and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time in the flats she wore for this very reason. Running down the hall she saw him slumped against the door frame, about to go in. "No!" She yelled at him, running as fast as she could. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back while his brilliant blue eyes stayed locked into the bathroom.

Sitting in the tub was a teenage girl, blond and pretty, but her pale skin was cut into a million shreds, blood running in inky streams down the transparent shower curtain and white porcelain tub. Strands of straw stuck out of the deep cuts, covered in the sticky red liquid.

"Dad…"

John squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "Lindsey…" He chocked reaching out.

"Rollins no!" Cece grabbed his arm. "Look at me!" She tried to pull him away but his farmers build that she had admired earlier just slumped against the door frame, body turning but head not moving from his daughter. "Rollins! We have to go!"

John shook his head, tears in his eyes.

"She's not real!" Cece insisted.

Johns eyes snapped to her. "She's right there! Can't you see her?" Cece nodded. "Then you know she's real!"

"No Rollins, she's not." Cece grabbed the door and shut it so that he wouldn't have to look anymore but his daughter's voice called out again. He bit down on his lips, trying to hold back tears.

"Rollins look at me." Cece told him, grabbing his arms. She forced them to her waist and stepped in closer to him. "John," She tried softer, face looking up at his until he opened his eyes. "I am the only thing on this farm that's real okay?" He glanced back at the door. "It's trying to get into your head and it's going to if you don't focus on me!" He looked back down at her, her button nose only centimeters from him. "Okay...use me as your anchor. I am reality. Do you understand? I am the only thing on this farm that's real."

John let out a breath, trying to focus on her soft face, far softer than he had ever seen it. His hands tightened on her as he felt her body heat and her gentle breath. Real. Warm. Alive. "Okay." He forced out as her eyes stayed glued with his.

Cece nodded. "We have to go." She told him. He looked back at the door. Using a hand on his cheek, Cece turned his face back to hers. "Rollins…sooner would be better than later."

John nodded quickly as she pulled away from him, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the stairs as he kept looking back. She pushed the front door open and past the cold body of Miranda that stood outside the door. He held his breath and slowed down to stare at the blond that he had seen cut up in the field six months ago.

"Rollins!" Cece yanked his hand and looked back when she felt the resisting force of him slowing down, not seeing the large nail sticking out of the porch steps that had not been there before. She let out a blood curtailing scream as her foot slammed down on it, releasing his hand and falling forward. It tore through the entire thing, sticking straight out from the balls of her foot before her forward momentum lurched it out with the sound of tearing skin and she fell down the steps in a tumble.

"Cecelia!" John yelled, running down the stairs and looking at her bloody foot for a split second.

"Really John? Another distraction? Wont you ever learn?" Miranda said from the top of the steps.

"Bitch!" Cece hissed as John picked her up, cradle carrying her and running her to the cars. No way in hell she was going to be able to drive with that foot. Pushing her into the passenger's seat of her truck he grabbed her bag as searched desperately for her keys.

Glancing at her, he saw her shift painfully in the seat and pull them from her pocket. He grabbed them quickly and started the engine. Looking forward he saw a large dog, teeth bared, Shepard mix face looking unbelievably threatening. standing in front of the truck. It snarled and barked and snapped, back arched and bristled. "What the heck?" He muttered.

Cece pushed herself up in the seat, not letting shock overtake her from the injury. "Aw man." She grumbled through her the nausea she felt in her stomach, trying to pull her bloody shoe off to look at the damage. "Run him over."

"What?"

"Shaggie is already dead! Run him over!" Cece hissed through her pain as she pulled the flat off and took in the bleeding on her foot.

John gritted his teeth and pushed hard down on the gas pedal.


	4. Chapter 4

**WaterWarrior6: Lol no it was a ghost dog. I stepped on a nail once…it hurt like hell! And it kept hurting. It wasn't like one of those oh let bandage it up and it just aches things. Its like that constant pain shooting and burning thing!**

**greeneyesonly: Here you go!**

**coconutcarter: Lol Miranda is a bitch!**

**Leyshla Gisel : No the curse is not! It wants whoever can get in the way dead!**

**Forever Fanfiction Lover22: I love me some spooky!**

**Zeyden: Lol I've had the first seven chapters written so there is a lot locked away.**

**JavaNut: I hope so!**

**WinterIsComing1015 : Lol oh man My husband is addicted to Supernatural. I was for a while but around season six I was like "Okay…I'm done." I think it was that episode where they went into a world with no magic and played themselves like they were on a tv show. I just went "Okay writers, you're done than I'm done." I'm glad I can still make you're skin crawl!**

**Chapter Four:**

John kicked open the motel door and used his elbow to flip on the light. His armed were carrying the small form of Cece, who flew in between pain and anger. Her arms were wrapped around his neck tightly and he could tell that she didn't like to be carried. She kept tightening when he shifted as if she was afraid he was going to drop her.

Carefully he walked over to the bed and put her down on it. "Cecelia…seriously. We should go to the hospital." He looked down at her foot. "That's pretty bad."

She shook her head and he could see the thin layer of sweat on the line of her hair from the pain. "Just…the green suit case okay? And water."

John nodded and rushed over to the suit case, picking it up and setting it on the bed next to her. He went to the bathroom to grab the pitcher of water and filled it in the sink and grabbed the towels. When he got back he saw her unzipping the bag and pulling out a large black one. The items inside it clanked together. He set the pitcher down and picked up the pillows, going to her foot and propping it up as she made a whining noise of pain.

"Hand me my phone." She said through gritted teeth. He grabbed her bag and went through it, feeling awkward searching though her large purse again. He was a gentlemen. He didn't go through a ladies things. Finding it he handed it to her as she pulled the strings of the black bag open and started pulling out bottles and jars.

He frowned and looked at the herbs and ointments in the jars. "You probably need a tetinis shot." He told her again, wanting to take her to the hospital.

Cece shook her head at him. "As many people as I save, this life doesn't exactly come with health insurance." She joked weakly. She reached over with her other hand and dialed a number into the phone before putting it on speaker. "I'm calling May." She told him, wondering if he was going to leave.

John took one of the towels and moved down the bed, feeling guilty. If he hadn't stopped, if he had listened about them not being real, if she wasn't pulling him along, she would have seen that nail. He wrapped the towel around her foot and put pressure on it.

She closed her eyes and slammed her head back into the head board in pain but nodded at him. "Thanks." She muttered. "May?"

"Cher its late…" The old woman's tired voice came.

"It's a scarecrow May. I freaking scarecrow!"

"I told you all that." John grumbled. Cece looked up at him and scrunched up her nose. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him.

"Calm down Cece." Mays voice said. "You know that's not possible. They were all destroyed. Our people made sure of that a long time ago. Are you sure?"

"As sure as I am that a death omen told me." Cece said. John watched as she grabbed a syringe out of her bag and jammed it into her leg with a hiss of pain. "What the hell is going on? Death Omens can't talk!"

"Are you hurt?" May asked her.

Cece nodded. "Nail through the foot trying to get Rollins out." She told her and John looked away in anguish. "Not his fault though. It had his dead daughter in a bathtub." He looked up at her from under his eyebrows, wondering if she had said the last part for his comfort.

"You let him go with you?!" The old woman sounded surprised. "You never let them go with you."

Cece glanced up at John, his blue eyes looking at her with curiosity. "How do I kill a scarecrow Auntie May?"

May was quiet for a moment and rustling could be heard through the phone as though she was looking through old books and papers. "There's a ritual for the flesh…I will send it to you on this…thing you gave me."

Cece closed her eyes, feeling the morphine she had just injected herself with kicking in. "It's a computer Auntie. I'll look it up tomorrow morning and help you send it through. I don't think I'm going to stay awake much longer and I need to tend to this wound."

"Of course. You tend to yourself and that man and his family. Don't be…well you know how you are."

John looked up at her, wondering 'how she was'. Prickly maybe? Was she like this with everyone? Why work so hard to save people if you couldn't stand them so much?

"Yeah yeah." She muttered. "Thank you." She dropped the phone to the side and opened her eyes heavily again. "I've got this…" She told him weakly.

John shook his head. "Tell me what to do. You look like you're about to pass out." He could see her eyes fading. "I'll clean it first and then just tell me what to use."

Cece nodded as he started to use the water he had brought to clean out to wound. She reached over and grabbed one of the jars. "Here use this to disinfect it." She told him, gripping into the blankets under her as the pressure on her foot released.

John reached out and took the bottle and using some of the clear liquid to clean out the bottom and then top of her foot. She shifted and he could tell she was in pain. Her knuckles turned white on the cheap bed spread. "So that was your dog?" He asked her, trying to get her mind off of her foot and pain.

"Um hum." She said, biting her lip and watching him. He focused on her foot but kept glancing up and her pale face. "Family dog from a long time ago."

"Shaggie?" He asked with a little smile.

She gave a little smile. "Yeah…give me a break. I named him when I was 4."

"So you did have a normal life." He murmured.

Cece closed her eyes and nodded. "A long time ago." She told him. "Sunny and all." He laughed and she opened her eyes again smiling through her pain. "Miranda?" She said and he looked up at her.

"She was a neighbor with her husband Jude." John said. "What now?"

Cece leaned over, stretching. He could see that she had a thin layer of sweat on her from the injury and the drugs she had injected herself with. Her porcelain skin was practically shinning. "Here." She held out another jar. "Fill that about half way with water and shake it. Better than Neosporin."

John took it and did as she said. "What is all this stuff?" He asked her while he shook the jar.

"John…can we do the herb ology lesson later?" She asked feeling herself getting weak. She had to be if she was using his first name. She never even thought of him as 'John'. His face was in soft focus and she tried to collect herself and see him more clearly. "You have to show me where you met her…where she and her husband lived."

John frowned as he remembered his experience with Miranda in the trailer. "Why?"

"So many questions…" She whispered as her eyes closed again.

John watched her face relaxing and fading out as he opened the mixed jar and began to spread the foaming cream on her foot. He took a breath. "Cecelia?" He tried but got no answer. She was asleep.

"Okay…I'm just going to wrap this." He grabbed some of the gauze and wrapped it around her little foot. Getting up he took the bottles and jars and put them back into the black bag. He moved up to the head of the bed and looked at her sleeping face for a moment, frowning at the sweat and dirt still on her hair line. She looked peaceful like this, sweet, young…beautiful really.

Putting a hand behind her head, he pulled her down so that she was lying flat and reached to make sure that her foot stayed propped up on the pillows.

He looked her over again, rubbing the back of his head. He should go check on Michael. He turned and looked out the window, eyes widening for a split second at the crow sitting perched on the window frame. It was the middle of the night. He frowned and looked at its head cocking directly at the girl in bed. "Oh Jesus." He muttered.

* * *

_Cece stood in a field in front of a large old white plantation house. Everything around her felt thick. The air weighted down heavily around her body. She felt like she could not breath, couldn't move through the thick molassis that was the stagnant air. Instead she just watched, eyes wide, unable to move._

_There was no one spark, no explosion. It was sudden and unstoppable as the white siding of the country home was devoured by the mouths of red and blue flames. All that she could hear were screams, deafening, skin meting off screams._

_She should have been in that house._

Cece woke up with a jump the next morning to see a cup of coffee on her bedside table. Her foot was throbbing like hell but at least it wasn't the searing pain it was last night. She hadn't hit any important nerves by the feel of it when she wiggled her toes experimentally. She cringed but the pain was a good sign.

Reaching over she picked up the coffee and a note. _Errands to run. DO NOT MOVE.- JR_

"Don't move?" She muttered to herself. "He's telling me not to do stuff now? Crap, I need to pee." She pulled herself up from the bed and jumped on one foot towards the bathroom, crashing on the wall once or twice before making it. Finally she got back to the bed with the same amount of ridiculous hopping and threw herself back to the mattress.

She pulled out her laptop and began to go through the pages and information that May and managed to send. She looked over the old scanned in pictures and the legends that had been written down over the centuries.

Glancing up she saw the door to her motel room slowly creeping open. She frowned and grasped a knife that she had on her bedside table fingers tightly wrapped around it. Michael's head popped in and she let out a breath, releasing her grip on the knife. "Hi there sugar." She told him with a little smile.

Michael gave her a nervous smile. "Dad is still out." He told her and Cece nodded. "I'm bored. Can I stay in here?"

Cece smiled warmly. "Sure child. Come on up here."

Michael closed the door and climbed up onto the bed across from her, looking around. "You don't have any of those weird drawings up." He observed.

Cece nodded again. "I don't need them…I put herbs up as protection. See?" She pointed over the doors and windows where she had hung up little clumps of dried sage, lavender and angel root. "They smell better than paint too." She told him, wrinkling her nose dramatically.

Michael smiled and nodded. "Can you do that to our room?" He asked her.

Cece tilted her head to the side. "Do you not like the drawings?" She asked him.

Michael shook his blond head at her. "They scare me."

Cece nodded. To a little boy those must have been a bit frightening. "When your pa gets back we'll put the herbs up if he likes."


	5. Chapter 5

**greeneyesonly: Tehehe you will find out!**

**WinterIsComing1015: She'll explain it to him later (Why she doesn't let them come along).**

**Leyshla Gisel: Those little fuckers are everywhere.**

**Forever Fanfiction Lover22: Spooky is what I'm going for. I kind of view Cece as almost one of those beautiful statues in the middle of a grave yard. Always in the middle of the spooky.**

**WaterWarrior6 Lol when someone says don't move I just have to move out of spite. You'll feel more sorry for Michael in this chapter.**

**Chapter Five:**

John unlocked and opened the door to his motel room, bag of groceries or what would pass for groceries in his arms. "Michael, I'm back." He was greeted with nothing but silence. He dropped the bag and looked around in panic. "Michael!" Running out in the lot he gripped his hair, looking around wildly. "Michael!" He screamed, turning around in circles. "Oh god no. No, no, no."

"Right here dad!" Michael said from Cece's door.

John released a breath as Michael went back into Cece's room. He ran to the door, bending down and hugging his son tight. "Buddy! You scared me to death! Don't do that okay?"

"I left a note." His son said squirming. "I was bored and Cece said I could play cards with her."

John looked up to see Cece pulling herself straighter on the bed, a deck of cards were sitting on the mattress where they were playing war. Cece looked nervous. She shifted in the bed and tried to prop herself up more. "Why don't you go and get washed up for lunch Michael? Bring some over for Cece and we can eat together." He told his son, rubbing his hair.

Cece frowned and watched the boy leave the room grumbling. "Sorry," She said making john look back at her from where he stared after his son. "He was bored and I think kind of frightened."

John nodded and sighed. "Not exactly a healthy environment to raise a kid in." He muttered running his hand through his hair in frustration and dissipating panic.

Cece frowned and looked down at the cards in front of her, furrowing her eyebrows as she began to gather them up. She had been raised in this environment. Even before the…incident, the old house keepers and caretakers had let her sit in on their prayers and syononces. She'd learned early. When she had been taken by May at 14 she was exorcising. She saw things…

She shook her thoughts away. "Michael asked me to put up the protections that I have in here in your room. The drawings scare him he says."

John sighed and sat down on the bed. "I'm not sure…"

"They're just herbs Rollins." Cece muttered, picking up the cards. "Nothing demonic about it."

John looked at her sharply. She was defensive…but then again he had made it perfectly clear that he was a good Christian man…even if he didn't think that god was listening anymore. "Alright." He muttered. "When you can put weight on your foot again."

Cece let out a little laugh and he looked up at the strained sound of it. "Does he…talk about what he saw that night?"

John shook his head. "No. I thought it best to keep it to ourselves so they didn't put us in straight jackets."

Cece raised her eyebrows in consideration as she shuffled the cards in between her fingers. "Do you talk about it with each other?" She asked him. "You were both there…both saw it."

John shook his head. "No…he doesn't need to remember that."

"I reckon he'll never forget it." She muttered, knowing that she never forgot either. "Best if he doesn't think he's crazy." John shook his head and she glanced up at him. "And I reckon that you need to release some of that."

John swallowed down hard. "I can't talk about it." He chocked.

Cece nodded. "Fetch me a bowl of water and you won't have to talk." He looked at her questioningly. Cece gave him a little nod over to the bathroom. "Go on."

John squinted his eyes at her but got up from the bed, curious. When he came back into the room Cece was leaning over the bed, pulling out a bandanna and a jar from the black bag. He put the water down in between them and sat back down across from her, one leg over the side and the other bent in front of him. Cece poured some of the greenish liquid into the bowl and stirred it around for a moment with her hand. She glanced up at him before looking down and saying a little prayer in latin. Taking the bandanna she dipped it into the liquid before reaching forward and putting her small hand under his.

John frowned down at their hands as she began to run the cloth against his as if she was washing him. Her fingers were smooth, soft and warm. With everything that had happened he had forgotten how nice a woman's touch felt. "Magic?" He asked her to distract himself.

Cece shrugged. "Sort of. It will let me see your memories through your eyes." She subtly picked up the small pen knife that sat beside her and pricked his finger. John jumped in surprise. "Big baby." She muttered and he glared at her. For a half a second she wondered what those eyes would look like if he didn't hate her.

She took the rag and ran it over his finger before dipping it into the bowl and causing the greenish liquid to tint just the tiniest bit red. She ran bandanna over her hand just as she had his.

John licked his lips. "Will I be able to see yours?" She shook her head negative. "That doesn't seem fair." He muttered.

Cece looked at him sharply. "You don't want to see mine Rollins." She assured him sticking her hand out. "Okay, palm to palm." John hesitated and she rolled her eyes at him. "Come on. You had your fingers inside my foot last night. How much more intimate can you get?" She joked.

John took a deep breath through his nose before putting his hand under hers. "What now?"

Cece bit her lip. "Just close your eyes…and remember."

John closed his eyes. Cece frowned as she felt his mind going though a million scattered, quick memories: A baby being born, his wife, a stuffed bunny, a car wreck... it was always like this with people who weren't practiced at isolating a memory. The memory came out more vivid than ever before, playing out behind his eyelids like a movie or one of his worst dreams.

_He ran into the barn as fast as he could, the fog settling over the night clinging to his skin and making the old flannel shirt stick to his over heated, panicked skin. He heard the scream of his daughter and arrived just in time to cut off the arm of the scarecrow, easily seven feet tall off but it was too late. Lindsey went slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. _

_In his mind he waited for her to fall but she stuck there, head impaled on a nail, eyes wide, body twitching. He screamed. _

A hand came onto his conscious body and he registered in the back of his mind that he was still on the bed with Cece. Her fingers gripped into his shoulder reassuringly and he took a deep breath as it played out.

_The scarecrow threw its arm out and tossed him into Mary, sending them both flying back right as he saw Michael look over the loft. _

"_Dad!" Michael yelled. _

_His mind had been hazy and it reflected in the way that he saw the memory. "Michael! Stay there!" His spinning head whirled around as a deep engine started up, growling to life and shaking over them like an angry god. _

"_Mary move!" John yelled. He tried to pull his wife away but her leg was wedged under the turbin and cut when he tried to move her. She screamed as he tried to giggle it free blade cutting into flesh and blood oozing out. Right when he was about to pull it free the scarecrow grabbed him by the back and threw him across the barn. He hit one of the walls and blacked out for just a few seconds. _

Cece's hand tightened on his shoulder as her eyes darted across his face even as the memory played out behind her opened eyes, his eyes squeezed shut and face strained. She knew this hurt but she had to know what exactly had happened that night. "Rollins it's just a memory." She told him comfortingly as she felt his shoulders shake. "Stay with me. I've got you."

He nodded slowly.

_John came back to consciousness just in time to see the turbins spinning, cutting into his trapped wife. Her screams echoed across the barn walls and the blood on them spun everywhere, hitting him in the face as he screamed in anguish and tried to cover his face with his forearms. The tractor jerked over the body and into the scarecrow in front of it, shaking the loft where Michael was watching in horror. _

_Moving on auto pilot, John ran forward and jumped onto the tractor, standing on the seat and holding his blood soaked arms out for his son. _

"_Dad…" Michael half screamed, half cried. _

_John grabbed at him, knowing that they needed to get out of there now! "Don't look!" He told the young boy in vain. There was nothing to be seen that he hadn't already. _

"Okay." Cece blinked her eyes a few times. "I want you to think about the day that Michael was born now." She told him but the images just continued to play. Cece could feel and smell the blood in the barn. "Rollins! The day you had your baby boy!"

_Blood, there was just so much damned blood, john reflected. He could smell it…feel it on his skin…even taste it in his mouth, making him want to gag._

"God Dammit." She grabbed the pen knife up from next to her and cut open her finger quickly, blood dropping onto his hand to release her consciousness to him. Shifting she closed her eyes and settled on a memory that she actually thought would please him.

_John stood in a garden. It was hot but not the sticky fearful hot that had engulfed him moments before. The sun was out and warm…he was outside, standing in a large garden. It was lined with trees around it, flowers, herbs and vegetables bloomed. _

_A little girl, maybe about five or six, with long red hair and a pink dress walked past him, looking at him curiously. He watched her, her little pale hand cupped in front of her holding something. She gave him a little nod to follow her and John did curiously. Something smelled odd as he followed the girl through the bright, blooming garden. He knew that smell but couldn't figure out where it was coming from or what exactly it was. _

"What is that smell?" He asked out loud, eyes still closed. At least the blood was gone.

"_Don't worry about the smell." Cece's accented voice came softly as if it was being whispered through the trees and flowers._

"_May! May!" The little red head shouted, running up to an African American woman, sitting in the plots and digging new holes for the sprouts she had beside her. "Look what I found!" The little girl opened her hand. _

"_Oh!" May said. "Snail shells! Good Cece! Every garden needs a few snails. Put them right here so that they can be homes." _

_The little girl sat down next to the woman and put the shells down on the ground. "Why do we garden so much May?" The little Cece asked. _

_May laughed. "Gardening is important Cher!" _

_Cece scrunched up her nose. "Mama says that all gardening does is get us dirty." _

_John squinted in the sun and raised his hands over his eyes as he watched the scene. It was so innocent, so peaceful…so unlike what he had expected. _

_May shook her head. "Gardening brings us closer to the Lord little one." She told her. "He made us and now he watches us sprout and grow. When we garden we can get a little taste of what that feels like for him." _

_John's face softened as he looked at the old woman and the little girl as she nodded. She seemed to look right up at him, soft heart shaped face and huge eyes making his heart melt right before a red and orange burst swept over the entire scene like a wave and it went dark. _

John opened his eyes to see Cece's closed as she took a deep breath, her hand now resting on the bed. "What the hell was that?"

Cece opened her eyes slowly. "I find that when you jolt someone out of a memory that vivid, if its violent they get really shaken. I just tried to ease the blow by pulling you into one of my better ones when you couldn't focus on one of your own."

John frowned and rubbed his chin. "No…why did it smell like…fire."

Cece closed her eyes. Fire…all of her memories and dreams were always of fire and burn. "I don't know." She lied right as Michael came in with their lunches.


	6. Chapter 6

**greeneyesonly****: Definitely horrible for everyone in their own ways and the secrecy just makes it worse I should think! **

**JavaNut**** and ****Leyshla Gisel****: You shall see….but fire in a reoccurring theme in the occult and in this story. **

**Zeyden****: I'm glad that you like her! **

**WaterWarrior6****: The stuffed bunny is something that Michael carried in the movie. I'm sorry you're upset with what happened with Michael…he was trying to run over the scarecrow and things went bad… **

**WinterIsComing1015****: I'm glad that you like it! I came across some similar rituals in my research but they are more hypnoses than what I did in this scene. **

**coconutcarter****: The Hoodoo belief system is so insanely interesting. More like an arrangement of different beliefs, rituals and cultures which I love! **

**Chapter Six:**

Michael sat against the head board with Cece while John sat at the end of the bed. Michael kept looking over at her curiously as she drew patterns into the tv dinner. Whenever John would look away or back down at his food Cece would make a gagging face at Michael, clenching at her throat theatrically. Michael tried to hold back his giggles but was smiling wide at her theatricality. John would look up and both would drop back to their food instantly.

John looked up just in time to see Cece pretending to chock this time and raised an eyebrow. "Okay! I'm sorry I'm not a cook!" He said with an exaggerated sigh.

Michael nodded. "Mom was always the one who cooked." He put in and Cece nodded down at him, glancing at John whose face went tight and eyes looked away.

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Cece finally gave up. "Okay, I can't do this." She put the tray down as Michael and John looked at her questioningly. "Come on, get up." She told them. "You've got a diner in this Podunk town right?"

John pushed himself up off the bed. "Well yeah but-"

"My treat." Cece said hobbling over to the dresser to tie her hair back. "I can't eat microwave stuff. The consistency weirds me out. Pancakes. It's all about pancakes."

John couldn't help but smile at the large grin that spread across his sons face. He looked back at the woman standing by the dresser and shook his head as he noticed that she was standing on one foot. "Here." He walked over to her as she turned from the dresser and put a strong arm around her little waist to help her walk.

"Thanks." Cece found herself saying softly as he bent down to her to help her walk for the door. His body was strong and warm, solid like a brick wall despite his baggie jeans. She held onto his arm for a moment to steady herself.

John gave her a little smile. "Just let me know when you're ready…I could just pick you up again."

Cece shook her head. "I don't like being carried."

John nodded down at her as Michael started for the door, too excited about the prospect of pancakes to notice the two adults. John had figured that out last night. "I wont drop you." He told her with a little, comforting, closed mouth smile.

Cece glanced up at him. "It's a trust thing." She said quietly.

John watched as Michael and Cece sat across from each other in the booth at the diner. There had definitely been some strange looks as they had come in, his arm still around Cece's waist to help her walk. He had suggested grabbing her a cane or a crutch from one of the drug stores and she had shot him a look that he was pretty sure could have melt steel or made power lines explode. Still he could tell what the people in the little town thought. That he was moving on from Mary too soon. That what had happened in the barn wasn't really an accident at all.

Cece pursed her lips together as she folded a napkin into a football, tucking the corners in and pushing it over to Michael with a raised eyebrow and a devilish little smile. Michael grinned enthusiastically and took it. Cece leaned back into the red vinyl cushions and set up the goal with her fingers as Michael aimed and shot it, missing and making the woman laugh.

John shook his head. With him she was such a hard ass but when it came to Michael it was like she was a little kid. He would say it was creepy if it wasn't so damned sweet. He couldn't stop thinking about that little innocent girl sitting in the bright garden. His mind briefly moved back to the church where he had caught her begging god to "not take the boy." There had to be something going on there. He glanced at her as she set up to make a shot herself right as the waitress came over.

"What can I get you folks to drink?" She asked, taking out her pen.

"I'll guess." Cece told them with a little smile. She looked at Michael. "Chocolate milk?" Michael nodded quickly with a big smile. She looked at John, biting her lip in thought. "Coffee…no cream. He'll probably add too much sugar on his own." John's eyes widened and she smiled to herself, glad that she had gotten it right. "And an orange juice for me. Are you guys still serving breakfast?"

"For about another 30 minutes ma'am." The waitress confirmed.

"Perfect." She said with a smile as Michael gave a little 'yessss!' in happiness.

John shook his head in amusement. "And we'll probably need another kids menu for her." He teased before he could stop himself.

Cece scrunched up her nose and shot the little paper football at him, hitting him square in the nose and surprising him as the waitress moved away to get their drinks.

"Really?" John asked with an irritation he found he didn't actually feel. "You want to play that game?"

"I shot it at you didn't I?" Cece scoffed. She blocked her face as he took aim and shot it at her neck. She glared at him for a moment as their drinks came over before grabbing her straw, never breaking eye contact with him. She didn't think she had ever seen John Rollins actually look like he was having a good time but the way his blue eyes held hers definitely held a glint of what he might have been before this situation had started.

Stabbing the straw out of the wrapper she began to roll little balls of the white paper in between her fingers.

"Cecelia….bad influence." He reminder her, glancing over at Michael.

Cece shrugged her slender shoulders. "I'm just a kid remember?" She taunted.

John narrowed his eyes at her. "Michael, give me your straw."

"Don't give him your straw." Cece quickly told the boy who looked in between them in surprise. Evidently it had been a long time since he saw his father behave like this.

The ensuing battle was cut short by the waitress coming back and looking at them all like they were insane before taking their order. John shook his head at Michael who had covered his hands with syrup before telling him to wash up.

He looked back at Cece as his son left. She was leaning back in the booth with a little smile as she looked out the window. Her apricot hair seemed even brighter through the window and her face infinitely younger after playing. She really was beautiful, even if she was pale from her injury.

"Cecelia," He muttered, making her look back at him. He was searching for something to say: something besides that he was sorry for judging her before. Something besides apologizing for getting little white wrapper pieces in her orange juice. Something besides how beautiful she actually was. "Thank you." He said instead.

Cece gave him a little closed mouth nod as she put her card down on the table for the waitress. "Its no problem Rollins. Better than eating alone." She nodded at the waitress as she came to collect the bill and card. "You should take me out to where you saw Miranda and Jude's trailer today."

John looked at down under the table. "You feeling up to it? With your foot and all?"

Cece nodded quickly. "I feel better now that I've eaten and I have some pain medication in my purse." She told him as the waitress brought back the check and she signed it. "Besides May wont be finished finding all the information I need to look over until later this evening. I'd prefer not to spend the day watching daytime tv and rotting my brain."

* * *

"It was right here!" John told her looking around the clearing right off of his farms land. "There was a trailer right over here."

Cece sighed and looked around the empty lot, scrapping her shoe in the dirt as she walked. She was still insanely in pain and the pills she had taken were wearing off. She didn't want to take anymore and have a loose head.

John looked at her, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm not crazy." He told her solidly.

Cece nodded and continued to search the area. "I know you're not Rollins." She told him. "I saw her too…don't worry."

"I didn't just see her! I…" He stopped and frowned. "She…we…"

Cece frowned at his floundering. "Oh, tell me you didn't?" She muttered.

John looked away, slightly ashamed. "It was like being possessed. I couldn't stop it. I could barely move."

Cece walked along the fence, running her hand along the old wood, trying to catch the feeling of the death omens again. "You were raped by a dead woman." She muttered with a shake of her head. Talk about trying to drive a person over the deep end. She slung her bag off her shoulder and took out a baggy and a lighter.

"What are you doing?" He asked as she pulled out a cylindrical bit of tied together herbs.

Cece brought her lighter to the tip of them. "I'm going to try to find the…footprints of them." She told him. "See if I can figure out how old the spirits are to get a better idea of when the scarecrow killed them." She flicked the lighter on and started to burn the herbs.

John frowned and put his fingers to his head as the world around him shifted. "Cecelia?"

"Sush." Cece told him, distracted in her thoughts and slowly walking around the confines of where he had said the trailer had been.

John closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his head moving and the world shifting and swirling around him.

Cece frowned as she felt lust and emotions moving through the confines of the ground. She glanced back at John who looked a bit disoriented before he straightened up and looked at her with hard purpose filled blue eyes. She felt something bubble in her stomach and legs. Sparks moved through her stomach and her pink lips parted as she looked at him. His tongue darted out across his bottom lip and her eyes immediately followed it without her willing them too.

"Rollins no." She told him sternly but his legs moved in long strides to her. He only had to take three steps before he reached her and grabbed her around the back of the neck. His lips collided with hers as he pulled her forward, making Cece drop the sage to the ground.

His kiss was devouring as he forced his tongue into her soft warm mouth. His breath passed hard against her cheek as he gripped her face with his other hand to angle it up to him. Cece felt herself being taken over for a few seconds by the feeling. This was right. It was good, the need that sprang in her cooed and coaxed. Take it.

Her hand fell over his chest and rapidly beating heart. She snapped her eyes open when she felt it mirrored in her own. She had fought procession before but nothing like this. Nothing that was pure lust and naked desire. Normally it was violent. The only violent thing she wanted to do was rip his shirt off. She'd ride that amazing farmers body right here in the dirt like an animal…but that didn't sound like her. It wasn't her.

Pushing hard against his solid chest, she momentarily detached her lips from his. Cece slapped her hand across his face. "Snap out of it!" She yelled at him.

John made a low growl in his throat and grabbed for her again. Again her hand jetted out and slapped him harder this time. John dropped his head and breathed deep as Cece stared at him, gasping for air herself.

He felt where his lip was bleeding with his fingers and looked at the fingers that came away with blood closely. "Cecelia…I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

Cece frowned as she touched her own face where his facial hair had teased her cheeks and skin. For a procession kiss that was pretty damn…hot. "Has that ever happened before?" She asked him slowly, finding her voice uneven.

John looked down, trying to fight down his reaction to kissing her. That could have ended worse…much worse and he knew that. He had been unable to stop. He would have pushed her down in the dirt and forced his way into her if she had let him. He would have bitten into that pale perfect skin of hers and loved it. He would have ruined her if he had the chance. "With my wife." He muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

_SPEEDIE22__: Thank you! _

_Forever Fanfiction Lover22__: Lol this story is a bit different…they will but its different than my others. _

_Guest__: Lol Cece knows how to resist temptation. John not so much. _

_coconutcarter__: Lol tell me that wouldn't be your reaction as well!? And as for the lust spell…that's why Cece is fictional, cause what real woman would say no to that. _

_Zeyden__: Sorry it took so long! _

_WaterWarrior6__: It was kind of funny right!? In a weird sick way…which is the best way. Yeah Cece is a different person with children around…we will see why. _

_Leyshla Gisel__: Oh John, John, John…he's just so easily possessed. _

_WinterIsComing1015__: Lol yeah sort of like that except Cece knew he was processed and snapped him out of it. In her defense she was processed too so that moment she kissed him back she was fighting the procession. _

_VeritasKym__: I really loved this film for the same reason that it was creepy; because you don't know whats real and whats not. Soooooo creepy and really the essence of good horror. Lol shout out to Louisiana!_

_Sorry it took so long to get this out guys! I really wanted to finish the Vacuum and than suffered a majors case of writers block. Plus I wanted to make sure I got some research done for this chapter so that we could get some background on the scarecrow._

_Please review guys!_

_Chapter Seven:_

John slowly opened the door to Cece's motel room late that night. She was on the bed, laptop in her lap and pajama's on while she read. He felt horrible about earlier that day, ashamed. He wasn't even sure if he liked this girl…hell he wasn't even sure he knew what she was. All he knew was what he had almost done.

Her bright green eyes darted up to him and he was momentarily thankful that her pajama's were less than attractive (A baggie white t-shirt and a pair of red flannel mens pants), contrasting her pretty face and the shocking hair tumbling off of her left shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey," He muttered back, shutting the door behind him. "Michaels finally asleep."

Cece nodded absently…or at least with the semblance of absent behavior. It was just a stupid kiss. She looked up at him as he shifted from one leg to the other. "Good. Child needs his rest." She rubbed her hand in her hair and looked back at the screen while he continued to move awkwardly. "Something you needed?"

John frowned but nodded. He thought they had been making progress today, that maybe he was understanding her more and she was understanding him. "Just wanted to know if you've found anything in the stuff May sent you." Cece gave a little nod but nothing more. Carefully he sat on the end of the bed. "You going to tell me?"

Again her eyes flickered back up to him. "Not sure you want to know too much Rollins. After you drop down the rabbit hole its kind of hard to crawl back out."

John rubbed the back of his head. "I think that ship already sailed." He murmured. It came out so low and heart breaking that Cece looked up at him.

"There's…there's a lot of lure about scarecrows. Some of it is ridiculous…some is trust worthy." She finally said low, turning the computer screen towards him. She had talked May through scanning some of their books and reports they had tucked away, along with May's journal from when she had first encountered her own over 50 years before. "The trick is to find out what kind it is."

"There's more than one kind?" John asked in a mixture is disbelief and disgust.

Cece gave him a sympathetic look. She really REALLY didn't want to tell him about this. Honestly she didn't want him and Michael involved at all. She didn't let normal people get involved for a reason. They got in the way. This was not the way it worked. She liked it better when person called her, she went out and took care of the problem and then was gone. End of story. Not collateral damage. But than again in this case there already was collateral damage.

She sighed before leaning on her knees, her still swollen foot propped up on one of the thin pillows. "Scarecrows have been around forever…in Europe they date so far back that people don't know when they started. The first recorded scarecrow appears in written literature in Japan 712. Its supposedly a spirit that can't walk but knows everything about the world. It's called a _Kuebiko.__"_ John looked at her in surprise. "So yeah there's more than one kind." She pulled the laptop back. "There are a bunch of different kinds in European mythology…mostly pagan. England had a bunch of different names for them, each with different traits and weakness's: Hodmedod, hay-man, Tattie Bogal, Murmet. Than there are the French, Dutch, German…"

"So which one is this?" John asked, cutting her off.

Cece shrugged. "It didn't stop and tell me so I don't know. I mean this area was settled by Dutch, Irish and German's. Than you have the Native Americans before them who have their own stories and demons."

"So how will you find out?" John asked picking up one of the books on the end of the bed and leafing through the scribbled notes.

Cece licked her lips before looking down at her foot. It was healing…she could feel it and it throbbed but wasn't blindingly painful anymore. "I need to see where you found it…were there any markings or pictures? Anything distinctive?"

John paused turning a page and looked at her a shot of fear running up his spine. "The barn." He muttered, looking back down to distract himself and hide the fear and sadness that rolled off him. "I found it in the barn."

Hiding his sadness didn't help. Cece could hear it in his voice, see it in his tensed broad shoulders and his furrowed eyebrows. "I'll have to see it."

John snapped the book shut with a sharp sound, quieting Cece as she watched him rub his face with his hands, fingers combing through his facial hair before looking at her. "How can…all this stuff be real."

Cece frowned and looked towards the window where a crow was sitting, watching them. "Rollins…" She sighed leaning back against the head board. She shook her head. "Everything can be real as long as someone believes in it enough."

John shook his head. "Than if you don't believe in it, how can it hurt you?"

Cece gave a little sad smile. She wanted to reach out and offer him some kind of comfort…give him something but she couldn't think of anything that could even possibly be comforting. Slowly she moved forward and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it as his larger, rougher hand came up and slowly over it. He gave the slightest bit of pressure as she spoke. "That's not how it works."

John nodded slowly and lifted his face to hers, looking into the bright green eyes while she searched to see if this was helping or just putting him more into shock. "About…earlier…I'm sorry."

Cece gave a little, short laugh that lifted her shoulders. "It's not your fault Rollins. The spirit or whatever is trying to throw us. Make us doubt ourselves." He cocks his head to the side. "It's searching for weaknesses and ways to upset those that are trying to destroy it. It's how it survives."

John nodded, a frown twisting his lips. Never mind that it had already showed him his weakness. Beautiful women. His wife, Miranda…now the one person that he was actually starting to think could help was one of those women. It was trying to drive her away so that she wouldn't or couldn't help and using him like a pawn. He wasn't going to be that. Not again.

* * *

Cece frowned as John stopped outside the barn, taking a deep breath. She looked back at the old doors and shook her head. This is where his wife and daughter had died, she remembered. She had seen the police photo's. His daughters head had been impaled on a nail and his wife had been run over by the tractor. It was gruesome but had been ruled an accident. The photos were brutal…blood and gore. His memory of it had been even worse. That hadn't really even been the worst part. No, Cece was used to blood. It was the wide open eyes that had stung her.

"You can stay out here Rollins…I'll find the compartment." She tried.

John shook his head. His stomach felt tight and he could feel the air stringing his lungs as he tried to breath it in. "No…" He said slowly. "We have to do this…I have to go back in there." He had come back to the farm a few times, trying to figure out how to get rid of the accursed scarecrow, but he had never gone back into that barn.

Cece nodded, surprised and a bit impressed by his resolve even if his voice was shaken. She hadn't had that much resolve…not in the beginning. She shook the memory away and pulled the latch up on the door. Opening it she felt a cold blast of air shot out and hit her in the face. She sighed. "Parlor tricks. You're going to have to do better!" She called to nothing and no one in particular.

John looked down at her with a raised eyebrow before following her in. Cece walked straight forward and he followed after her slowly, looking down at the ground. He stopped in front of the blood smear on the ground and took another deep breath, feeling it shake slightly in his chest.

Cece looked back at him as he starred down. She had about exhausted her ability to comfort people when had tried to guide him through his memory. "Rollins." She tried. "Please…just show me where it is and you can make a run for it."

John nodded slowly and followed after her towards the back wall. "Here." He muttered standing in front of it numbly. Cece nodded and took a step forward, grabbing onto the boards and tugging. It wouldn't give. She tried again, thin fingers grasping.

John watched with a raised eyebrow. "Having some trouble there?" He asked trying to keep down a little hysterical laugh.

"So funny." She muttered giving another yank with all her body weight.

John shook his head. "If you need my help, ask for it." He wanted to hear her ask; hear her say that she needed his help.

Cece tried one move time, wrinkling her nose as she pulled hard, lost her grip and fell to the ground with her momentum. She scowled and looked up at his smug face. "Fine…a little help couldn't hurt."

John nodded and grabbed onto the wood. "That wasn't so hard was it?" He asked giving a swift pull and opening the compartment in one try.

Cece pulled herself from the ground and brushed off her hands on her jean clad thighs. "You're such a smart ass." She muttered, pushing inside of the small compartment. She stopped and looked at the drawings on the walls, tracing one with her fingers.

"What are they?" John asked. He'd never really paid attention to them before, drawn in what looked like white chalk.

"Voodoo." Cece muttered. "Not uncommon but scarecrows were mostly developed in the north western European cultures. It explains why this one might be so hard to kill." She moved more into the compartment, John following after her and turning on the flashlight. "I told you that most scarecrows are from lure about spirits and deity's…Voodoo is a bit different. Have you ever hears of Nathanial Hawthorn?"

John pushed a spider web away from over her head before it hit the apricot strands. "Ummm I think I read something of his in high school." He vaguely remembered it.

"Probably the Scarlet Letter." Cece muttered coming to a stop and picking up and old photo. "He did another short story about a witch in 17th century Salem about a witch who builds a scarecrow and is so impressed by her own handiwork that she decides to bring it to life." She used her arm to scrub off some of the dust and grim from the glass. "People just love bringing things to life…idiots."

Both of their heads shot up and John swirled the flashlight around them when they heard the barn doors slam shut behind them. "Shit!" John swore before he could stop himself as he moved towards the compartments exit.

"Rollins wait!"


	8. Chapter 8

_Guest: In the other story written by gurl, just like in the move John was taken over by a lust spell. This happened in the movie so it's a pretty obvious reference back to it. However my spell, as it is explained in chapter seven, has different intentions: to drive or scare those that might cause the scarecrow harm (aka Cece) away from the farm and John._

_VeritasKym: Lol they are legends from various cultures about scare crows most of them focused in Asia and Western Europe. After the Europeans started to settle in the United States, native Americans started to develop legends too. The Aztecs and some cultures in southern American cultures would use human heads to banish evil spirits and some cultures would string up dead animals like other crows to scare away birds from crops. Than there all of the subcultures of magic that like to animate objects: witches, black magic, voodoo…ect. Sorry for the scare lol!_

_Leyshla Gisel: Lol yay crazy!_

_Zeyden: Sorry! You know I love my cliff hangers!_

_WaterWarrior6: Why have you had a bad crying week sweetie? Don't be sad!_

_Forever Fanfiction Lover22: They are most certainly getting in deep._

_WinterIsComing1015: Lol I'm glad that you like the Literary and historical porn of this chapter. The Hawthorne short story she is referencing is titled "Feathertop". Its actually cute and sad. I like my research and getting things as close to the truth as possible. I think it makes the story more believable…as believable as it can be anyway._

_coconutcarter: No sane woman! I was talking to Kynte yesterday and said that she would have to be insane blind and deaf because even if you were blind and couldn't see him you'd have to be crazy not to fall over when you hear his voice!_

_greeneyesonly: I'm glad you like the little details…I think its really the little things that can show affection and tenderness and the growing of a relationship. Men right?! Never mind that Cece knows more about this stuff and has handled it before hand. He's the man so he has to go running out cause because she's a woman there's no way she should be in front. (Sarcasm)_

_Chapter Eight:_

"Rollins!" Cece pushed through the dark cramped boards, grabbing an old leather bound book as she went. She hated taken things from their resting places. They could be cursed, they could be dangerous but whatever John was running into could be a hell of a lot worse. "Dammit! Can't you just-"

She stopped as she pushed herself out into the muted humid light of the barn, almost running into the board back of the farmer as he stood ridged. A little girl looked back at them with her finger to her lips. Her dirty once white dress hung around her knees in frayed strands. Dark hair limp and sweaty covered her eyes and pale skin of her cheeks as she lifted her head to look at the newcomer.

Cece let out a breath before stepping forward. "Now that's more like it…" She muttered as Johns hand shot out and grabbed her arm. She looked up at his face as his sweating palm gripped her from going any farther. "John?"

"Don't…" He said quietly. "I…I saw her die…"

Cece cocked her head at him. "Of course you did." She said as if it was obvious. "John she's a death omen just like Miranda."

Both looked up as the little girl bagan to make a chocked gagging sound, tendrils on blood coming from her mouth. John's body tensed and she could feel him trying to take a step forward in the packed dirt next to her. "Don't. Remember what I said. I'm the only thing on this farm that's real."

John frowned, not wanting the little girl to chock again on her own blood, not wanting to see it. He turned his face away and towards Cece with his blue eyes shut from the sound.

Suddenly the sound stopped as the little girl seemed to swallow her own blood and look at the woman that was keeping the farmer stable. Her little chubby pale finger rose and pointed at Cece slowly focusing on her. John frowned as he watched Cece straighten and stiffen. His hand came up and wrapped around her small shoulders while her body went stiff and ridged.

Tentacles became to weave around in her head, the same feeling as in dusty clearing where John said Miranda and Judes trailer had been set up. They snaked and moved and clawed around inside of her skull, making Cece bring a hand to her forehead. Johns voice could be heard from far far away, calling her back but it sounded like it was moving through water. The clinging feel of hands trying to grasp at something scratched at the inside of her skull searching for something.

Fire.

Burning buildings.

Screams.

Faces of her parents.

Shaggy the dog.

May.

An old room with a bed and ropes tied to the frame.

"No!" Cece forced the fingers out of her mind and threw her hand down as the little girls lips began to move. "You can't get in there!" She hissed at the little spirit in front of her though she knew it was already partially too late. She could feel that tell tale invasion, like her brain was a maraca being shaken.

"Med-ui-m." Her childish sing song voice drew out the word at the same time Cece yanked a small bottle from her back pocket and pulled away from John.

She flung the holy water toward at the little girl who began to scream and steam like she had been burnt by acid. John watched it shocked horror as the girl shrieked and clawed trying to get it off before disappearing entirely.

"You just burnt that little girl!" John yelled as Cece readjusted the heavy book she had grabbed and started for the barn doors. "Cecelia!"

"Come on!" She yelled after him.

John hurried after her out of the barn and into the bright sun light. "What did you do to that kid!?"

"That was not a kid!" Cece said as she hauled herself into the passenger seat of his truck. "Not anymore anyway."

John climbed in and started the engine right away and casting his cast over the back of her seat and pulling backward. Turning back to look in front of him as he turned the car he was faced by a large looking African American man with a hoe in his hand. Rising it once he slammed the hoe down on the hood of the car making John jump and Cece brace her hand on the dashboard.

"Another one of yours?" He asked Cece.

"Oh yeah." She muttered. Before she could get the words totally out he was gunning the engine and pulling through the scepter gripping the steering wheel and bracing for an impact that never came.

As he pulled out of the farm and into the road he looked at the woman next to him but there was more red on her than there normally was. "Your nose." He husked out.

Cece frowned and brought her hand to her nose, touching the wet warm stickiness that she should have known would be there. Still she didn't expect it…didn't expect it to worm its way into her mind and cause a physical reaction so darn fast. Bringing her hand away from her face she looked at the red smear on it as John reached behind him while driving for a rag and giving it to her.

"It was just a kid." He said after a few minutes of tensed silence.

Cece glanced at him as she tried to get the blood off of her nose and lip. "It was already dead. Worry about the kids that are still alive."

* * *

John sighed as he stood on the side of the road by the motel, watching as the shinny yellow school bus came towards him with his son inside. Worry about the kids that were still alive…she was right. He had enough to worry about. Still he couldn't get the image out of his head…just like when he had seen her in the field months and months ago with a sythe stuck in her back chocking out blood.

"Dad!" Michael called out getting out of the bus.

"Hey Munchkin." John said focusing on his son in front of him. "How was school?"

"Good…where's Cece. I want to show her what I made in art class!" The little boy bounded forward.

John watched as his son moved through the open square parking lot towards where the young woman was sitting in one of the old rocking chairs. Her foot was propped up on another ice tied tightly around it with an ace bandage. He had noticed her limp when they were back at the hotel after the barn…adreline wearing off and the pain obviously stinging. "Michael!" He called out with no use. "She's working!"

"Hey there child." Cece said as Michael bounded up the steps and across the thin long porch towards her. She pulled her leg to the side so that Michael could take up residence in the other rocking chair and closed what had turned out to be an old photo album that she had picked up in the barns hidden demonic compartment. She was more than a little disturb that the cursed scarecrow had so easily wormed into her head but she wasn't going to show that to the boy.

"Hey Cece!" Michael's animated voice said to her as he plopped down into the chair. "I made something for you.

John worked his way up the steps with a sigh and leaned against the railing with his hands braced behind him on it. "Tried to tell him you were working…"

Cece shook her apricot head, some of the waves taking flight around her slender long neck and he couldn't help but look. "Its fine." She promised as she put the leather bound book to the ground. "Show me what you made."

Michael ruffled through his bag as his father rubbed his lips and watched the two. Her gaze was intent on Michael, tender, caring…unbelievable for someone that he had seen burn a child with acid holy water mere hours before. Michael pulled out a drawing and handed it to her. "Wow…" Cece muttered, eyes flickering to John and causing him to look down at the paper.

A Scarecrow….a damned scarecrow.

"Michael…" John tried to keep the growl from his voice but Cece's fixation drew his attention.

"That's really good Michael," She said in a hushed voice, eyes working over the rough, clumpy crayon. "Really really good…why did you draw human hands and this face on him?"

Michael shrugged with a bright smile. "You like it?"

"I love it." Cece's voice remained hushed as she looked at the childish drawing of the face. A face with gray eyes and a beard but no mustache…longish red brown hair. She looked up at the boy for a moment and forced a smile. "Can I keep it?" She asked him trying to even out her voice.

Michael rolled his eyes but was still smiling. "I made it for you silly. Of course you can keep it."

John ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he watched Cece turn her attention back to the drawing. "Michael…why don't you go put your school stuff away and start your homework."

"Daddddddd…." Michael whined, clearly hoping to stay out on the porch with the mysterious woman.

"If you finish your homework in time we can go to ihop." John tried. The promise of another pancake filled dinner seemed to spur the boy into action, grabbing his bag and hurrying back to their room. John watched and once he was sure his son was tucked away inside turned back to Cece. "I guess you are going to tell me this is one of the problems that comes along with not talking about it."

"Maybe." Cece knew her voice was miles away and distracted as she kept her eyes glued to the picture. Reaching a hand down she pulled up the heavy leather volume again and opened it, a shot of hot summer air moving over the two of them but surprisingly causing both of their skin to sprout goose bumps. "Here…" She held the drawing next to one of the old worn photographs on the first page. "Those look similar to you?"

John frowned and leaned over her arm to get a better look. His eyes narrowed before he sank to his knees for a more prolonged study. The man from decades past looked back up at them from the photograph, eerily similar to the crude cartoon drawing his son had made. A shock went up his spine as he remembered his sons words about the scarecrow when he'd first found it.

"_Its bad daddy…get rid of it." _

"What the hell?" John murmured. "How did he…?"

Cece shook her head. "Sometimes kids can see more things than adults can." She ignored the nagging feeling in her gut that told her it could be something more.

"What does that mean though?" John asked distracting her. "This guy made it?"

Cece nodded slowly. "You can't make something like that without falling prey to it. Frankenstein's monster syndrome if you need a better analogy." She paused and looked at Johns face so close to hers as they spoke in hushed tones even though no one was around to hear them. "I think…I think your scarecrow is wearing his face. I think its wearing all their skins. Thats why it keeps coming back to life."


	9. Chapter 9

_screamingknight: Isn't he so awkward and cute and worried! I love John!_

_Dalonega Noquisi: We shall find out soon!_

_Leyshla Gisel: Oh it already has in some ways. Her praying in the church was really a jolt for him; telling her to take her life instead…_

_WinterIsComing1015: I always thought there was more going on with Michael and the scarecrow. He knew that it was bad the moment it came out of the barn, than the dream with him in it, the way it b-lined for him in the barn._

_coconutcarter: LMAO! I love that you love my creepiness and the sexiness that is Mr. Norman Reedus._

_greeneyesonly: Strong gender my ass…._

_VeritasKym: Lol whats what saying? "Don't create what you can't control." I love Cece's memories. Its like this cute girl with this dark mind that's always on fire._

_WaterWarrior6: Dude! A month and a half?! Screw that those are happy tears! And you met Norman the light of our (Well my) little life! Congrats and I am so jealous! I actually took this one from a mixture of frankstein and a dutch scarecrow myth._

_Forever Fanfiction Lover22: I'm glad its creepy!_

_I'm sorry this is taking so long everyone. I'm having the worst case of writers block I have ever had in my life with all of my stories! Please PM me if you have any ideas or thoughts that you would like to see happening with John and Cece. We are going to speed up now._

Chapter Nine:

"_She's special." The voice came through the kitchen and carried into the little red heads ears. "So special. If we don't teach her…" _

"_We all know what happens if we don't teach her but her Ma and Pa will never allow that." Came another voice. _

Cece's eyes kept darting up over the table at dinner, her fork playing idoly in the fluffy cloud like expanse of pan cakes that sat in front of her. The green probing eyes settled on Michael every time, watching his facial expression and eye movement closely as the young boy devoured his own plate. John frowned. He wasn't worried about Cece doing anything wrong…no, he was more concerned by her sudden concern, her adult behavior with the boy. She wasn't playing, she was probing.

"Cecelia." His large hand wrapped around her bicep when she moved to go back into her room. Her big green eyes looked back at him as she watched his jaw twitch and arm, sleeve rolled up, flex and clench. "What is happening to my son?"

Cece shook her head. "I don't know." She lied.

"Yes…yes you do." Johns blue eyes ran over her soft face as she looked over his shoulder at where Michael was entering their room.

"No…no I don't." She couldn't be sure anyway. "Let me go."

John licked his lips before he looked down at where his hand was clenched tightly onto the thin arm he could wrap almost his whole hand around. "Don't let anything happen to him Cecelia. If something is happening, tell me. He's all I have." His fingers tightened on the skin as he said it, pressing into the tender plain. Something magnetic held him there for a moment. He wanted to trust this woman now, if that was what she really was. But she was keeping things from him…hard truths and theories that might not have been related directly to the problem of the scare crow but were certainly having an effect on her and the remainder of his family.

Cece yanked her arm away from his grip, seemingly jolting him out of his intensity. He cleared his throat and looked down, embarrassed by his actions.

"Never touch me again Rollins." She muttered as she felt the heat of his hand and stare hanging over her body. Stepping back from him she quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open with force before slamming it closed.

* * *

The sun beat down on her sweating back as she pushed through the tall vertical stalks of gleaming green and royal yellow. She was pretty sure…not 100 percent but she needed to make sure. The last thing that she wanted to do was make a mistake and piss the supernatural being off, maybe sending it barreling towards her or even worse the remainder of the Rollins family.

Shed left almost right away, b-lining for her truck as John looked at her from the balcony of him and Michael's room. The young boy had called her name as he came out of the door.

"Cece!" Michael had called.

"Stay here and get in your room." She had yelled over to him, not wanting the boy out with what she was planning to do and if he had more than some eeiry feeling about the killer of his mother.

Johns hands had gripped the railing. "Cecelia! Its only three hours til sun down!" The last few words were drowned out by the gunning of her engine.

Coming to the center of the field she brushed the tiny, salty droplets from her forehead. She was breathing hard, filled with rage and worry as she looked at the looming structure set up onto a wooden cross in front of her.

Taking a deep breath she looked around at the clean ground, dirt that most likely shouldn't have been clean at all. No if this thing was what all the evidence pointed to the dirt should be coated with decades of blood. She looked up at the face of the scarecrow, shadowed from the glowing sun by the worn, back rim of the flimsy hat.

Reaching behind her, Cece felt the sweat from her arms slide down as she pulled the shinning hunting knife from the back of her jeans, blade catching the glowing rays of the last of the days sun. Stepping forward she tried to keep her grip firm as the moisture coated the handle and made it slippery. She reached up and yanked of the arms down, fingers digging into the leathery flesh as she brought the knife up and began to slice into the wrist, wincing at the sound close enough to bone. Circling around it she almost expected it to bleed before she gave a few hard tugs. On the last she used all of her body weight, ripping the hand from the rest of the scarecrow and falling back into the dirt.

She winced as she hit the ground a rock digging into the side of her back and tarring the white tank top she was wearing. She kept a firm grip on the hand as she pulled herself back up to standing, one of her own coming to the shooting pain that rocketed through her skin.

"Shit…" She muttered when she pulled her hand back, looking at the little bit of crimson blood from what was sure to be a pretty good sized cut on her back, mixed with dirt and grime from the ground. Her green eyes darted up quickly as an eerie noise was carried on the warm breeze. Singing…a child's voice giggling and singing.

She shook her head hard to the side, trying to get it out of her skull with her eyes firmly closed for a slit second before looking back up at the scarecrow. It hadn't moved, hadn't budged to smite her or tare her own hand off as redemption. "Day or night…you can't scare me." She whispered, eyes watching in vain for a reaction.

Looking back down at the hand she began her walk out of the field, studying the mummified flesh as her fingers pushed into it.

* * *

"Dad…" Michael said nervously from the bed.

John leaned up against one of the windows, waiting for the return of Cece's truck, praying silently it would be before dark. All of the people it killed seemed to happen at night. But as the two hours crept by the roads remained clear. No dust along the road that the conjurer would use to return from his farm was kicked up.

He looked around at Michael for a moment. "She's fine Munchkin. She knows what she's doing."

Michael shook his dirty blond head at his father. "Its going to get her. It knows she can stop it."

John frowned, his eyes squinting at his son. "How do you know that Michael?"

The young boy shook his head and looked down at pad of paper and colour pencils. "I don't know…I just do."

John walked slowly over to the bed and looked down as he sat on the stiff edge. "What are you drawing?" He asked slowly as he took in the picture of the little boy standing in front of the white house. The child was almost a stick figure, much like the man that he had drawn on the scarecrow but one thing stood out. Bright red hair that matched the flames coming out of the field of black stalks behind him.

Michael shrugged again. "I don't know…just something."

John rubbed his lips as he watched his son pick up the green colour pencil and fill in the eyes. "Stay here." He said jolting up suddenly from the bed and grabbing his keys from the dresser.

"Dad!"

"Just stay put!" John called back, tossing the little charm bag that Cece had made Michael back to him.

* * *

Cece sat on the ground, her eyes focusing in and out once the sun went down on the hand that sat in front of her in the grass. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the clear night sky, the only illumination without the absent moon the running lights of her truck that she hand left on.

Around her in a thick circle lay a line of black and brown grave yard dirt. Consecrated ground. The Scarecrow couldn't pass that no matter how hard it tried when if it came back for its missing appendage. The hand lay outside of the gravely line, palm up towards the sky, thick fingers curled up as though holding an imaginary ball.

This was her final test for it. They last one she would do. It was no good to go into killing or exorcising something blind. It would just piss it off more. She'd learned that from experience and had the scars (Physical and psychological) to prove it.

Slowly she started humming to herself as the breeze picked up and pulled her hair loose of the pony tail, whipping around. She frowned at how hard it suddenly blew, looking down at the protective line she had carefully crafted. It was still intact. An amateur would have just picked up top soil but she was no farmer or horror movie enthusiast. She'd dug deep in the grave yard next to the small barely maintained church she had gone to her second day here. Gravel served better, not easily blown away or washed clean by the elements.

Leaning forward she pushed off her hands and looked down at the hand watching with narrowed eyes as the lifeless fingers began to clench and unclench, almost as if it was working a stress ball. Her lips parted as she watched the movement letting out a breath of amazement. She had seen inanimate things move…but never away from their main body.

Slowly she stood as her eyes darted to the tall stalks of night blackened corn moving, swaying and rustling. Stretching her neck she let out a shaky breath when she saw a dark figure appear out of them. Its weather worn hat moved as jerkily as the rest of its stuffed and hay bloated form, like it was water laden from the grain, ripe with its success over the past few months.

The lumbering steps brought it across the expanse of grass and Cece felt her body tensing and untensing like the still attached hand at its side. It stopped the two feet away from her where she had left its severed body part, reached a long arm down and pulling the grey and decayed remains back to its position and snapping it back in place.

Cece pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and it seemed like it might have heard the sound or smelled the fear on her. Still she stayed planted in the circle as the glow of her truck lights cast ever wrinkle, every straw sticking out of it, and both of its black beady eyes into stark prospective.

It almost made a roaring sound that seemed to come out of everywhere as its arm reached up and out for the woman that had mutilated it, stopping just short of her when it reached the protective line. Cece's heart picked up pace, eyes widening as she watched the bony digits claw out for her, skin stretching and sliding.

"No way." She told it. "I'm not getting out of this circle."

If the scarecrow could stare with those black holes that were meant to be eyes, she was sure it would have starred right into her soul. Slowly the hand fell, straw creaking and cracking under the motion before it used its large feet to stomp away and back towards the field.

Cece let out a breath she shouldn't have been holding as she watched it move and lumber before her eyes caught sight of something else coming out of the field. Something long dead. Something that should have never been there; that no one was ever supposed to see or feel from her.

"Jacob…" She whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

_VeritasKym__: Lol she was scared even though she knew she was safe behind the grave yard dirt. _

_Guest: Lol yes lets see! _

_coconutcarter__: Lol I don't think its creepy at all! It was meant to be cool with the flesh and blood hand! You already know I feel about the 'munchkin' bit! _

_screamingknight__: I'm glad you're loving it! _

_WaterWarrior6__: Lol my husband knows that once Norm realizes that we belong together our marriage is over! Jk…sorta. He wants to drink and smoke with Norman though so I think I married the right man! Lol I can just see him freezing! _

_WinterIsComing1015__: Yeah Michael is…something to her. She is completely off her game now and we will find out why this chapter! _

_Leyshla Gisel__: Isn't it! _

_Ninaluvsathena: Well she knows what she's doing but she was still a little afraid._

_Roselovejoythewalkingdead__ and __SPEEDIE22__ : Glad you're enjoying it! Please keep commenting and letting me know what you think! _

_Forever Fanfiction Lover22__: Lol how can it give you night mares when you get to see John getting ridden! That's the best dream ever! _

Chapter Ten:

John slammed on his breaks and pulled the car's door open before he had even come to a complete stop. The gleam of Cece's truck lights combine with his cast double shadows across the space. The young woman seemed frozen in place, staring, eyes wide.

"Cecelia!" He called out in panic as she stepped forward and over the line she had cast for herself.

Her heart ached, body burned to get closer to the figure standing by the tale stalks of corn, skin pale and covered in a white pair of pajama pants and button up top. His little pale fingers beckoned out to her, red hair stiff with cold sweat in the night, barely registering the curls that had been there. His little bare feet moved back. "Jake don't go in there!" She yelled as he moved to the trail that the demonic Scarecrow had left from.

John grabbed at Cece's wrist as she took a step forward towards the young boy and the shaking stalks that seemingly tried to draw her in. Her big green eyes were widened and sad, filled with unshed tears. "Jake…" She whispered.

John pulled her back. "Cecelia no!" He pulled her hard and wrapped an arm around her waist as she tried to get to the boy. He practically lifted her off the ground as she struggled against him. "Cecelia! It's not real! Remember? You told me it's not real!" He didn't know who the boy was but he could tell that she was in pain. Her chest heaved against his arms as she tried to breath and she was limp in his hold. "We've got to go! Before it comes back!"

"I can't leave him again!" She cried out. She knew in some deep part of her that he wasn't real… he was long dead. Still it plagued her. No one had dug up those bones for her. It was always her parents, her family's dog, others that she couldn't save, May…something. She tucked the memories of Jacob deep away in some distant corner of her mind. They were hers. No one else could have them.

"There's nothing else we can do tonight!" John gritted his teeth and pulled her along with him, pushing her into her truck and following her in. Grabbing her keys from her shaking hand he gunned the engine. He pealed out of the farm, gripping the wheel tightly. "Cecelia." He tried again, looking at her as she starred with her wide green eyes out of the window. "Cecelia please talk to me!"

Cece shook her head, sending her messy apricot hair everywhere. "I'm sorry." She whispered. She put her head to her knees and tried to banish the tears. John frowned and watched her as he drove, glancing at her from time to time.

"Who was that?" John asked as he pulled into the motel.

Cece pushed open the door with more force than necessary, rubbing her hands over her face. "Forget it." She told him, walking over to her motel room door.

John followed her. "You said I didn't know what you lost." He called running after her. "Is that what you lost…your son?"

Cece shook her head and leaned against the door, gulping back tears. Her body physically ached with emotional pain. Her head throbbed, her stomach was contracting in and out, her veins felt like they had icicles running through them. "I don't have a son. I don't have a family Rollins. Just leave me be." She pushed the door open with her back leaving a smudge of blood from the shallow cut there.

John followed her in before she could lock it. "You're lying." He said slowly as he watched her pull a small bottle of bourbon. He couldn't ignore the red hair on the boy…they were clearly related. "Cecelia?"

Cece shut her eyes as she felt the tears coming back. "Brother…my little brother." She told him as she glanced back at him. John took a breath as he watched a tear slip down her cheek in the dark room. "He's dead…14 years dead." She whispered.

John took a step closer, the gentlemen in him coming out. He shoved his hands in his pockets, knowing that they weren't friendly and that she probably didn't want to be touched. Still he felt his hands ball into fists as he watched her slender shoulders start to shake. "You said you couldn't leave him again." He murmured.

"Just go Rollins." Cece whispered as she tried to gain some control over her voice.

John frowned and shook his head, taking his hands out of his pockets and reaching out for her. She tensed at first, not wanting to need comfort. The sensation of being touched brought on a full wave of tears. He took an arm into each hand and pulled her with him to sit on the corner of the bed as he watched the tears escape from her bright eyes. He pushed the wet hair away from them and pulled her close, hugging her as she cried. "John…." He muttered. "Please call me John."

Cece nodded in his collarbones, feeling his shirt becoming wet from her tears. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her. "I'm getting your shirt all wet."

"It's okay…just stay there." John rubbed her back comfortingly. "Tell me about your brother."

Cece frowned but gave him a little nod. "I was 14. He was 10. We lived in Louisiana, right outside of New Orleans. We used to run around the old grave yards and play. Explore the old crypts and try to figure out what every ones stories were." She took a deep breath, thinking through the memory. "That's probably where IT happened…got into him. Being special like we were, being mediums, means its easier for things to slip inside of us. We're like catnip; spirits are just attracted to us.

"Jake started getting erratic…violent even. He'd pull out his own hair and scratch at his skin until it bled. The doctors had to tie him down because he started to peel it off…like the skin off a fruit."

She closed her eyes into his chest again. "Auntie May worked for my parents. She said he had a demon inside him. That she could get it out…my parents, ever the good Christians said no and that her kind of magic was the stuff of the devil. One night they came in and found her trying to get the demon out of Jacob. She was letting me help. Teaching me the old ways. They called the police…fired her and had her thrown off the land."

John frowned and looked down at her when she stopped and her voice cracked. "Keep going." He told her quietly. He got the impression that she didn't talk about this…ever. She needed to keep talking.

Cece nodded. "May always paid special attention to me. She said I had a gift in me. I could feel things that other people couldn't feel. That night I woke up and felt something…weird. Like when I moved I felt like my body was moving through mud…all slow and forced. I tried to get outside. Into the yard." She paused and clenched at his shirt, feeling him give her a squeeze to encourage her. "That's when the house burst into flames. Everyone was inside of it. May had come…feeling something too. She grabbed me screaming and yanked me away. The fire men said that they house was lit from different locations. I knew it was the demon inside of Jacob." She pulled away from him as he looked at her tear soaked face with his bright blue eyes. "I left them there." She whispered. "I left them all there to die."

"There was nothing you could have done." He told her quietly, slowly admitting to himself with the words that there was nothing he could have done to save Mary and Lindsey either.

Cece frowned and pushed her tears away from her eyes, standing up. "I could have died with them." She whispered. She took a shaky breath and looked at him. "So now you know why I do what I do…now you know why I'm as horrible as you think I am."

John felt his chest clench as he stood up to follow her. "I don't think that you're horrible. I just didn't understand." He pursed his lips together and reached out, taking her hand. "Is that why you watch Michael so much?"

She nodded slowly. She wasn't going to let anything happen to another young boy. She could still feel her brothers enraged, possessed screams from the house as it burnt. "I'm not going to let anything happen to him Rollins. Or to you."

John let out a little breath and pulled her into him. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you either Cecelia."

She gulped down and let her hands come to his sides. She had actually never had this kind of comfort before, someone that was holding onto her. She didn't talk about the things she had seen…so there was never any one there when her mind was steered towards it. Now she could feel his arm around her shoulder, fingers playing in the ends of her hair. "You can call me Cece now."

John let out a strained little laugh. "Only if you stop calling me Rollins."

She nodded into his arm, her face disappearing into his bicep. "Okay John."

Johns arms stayed wrapped around her for a long moment, traveling up and down her slender back as he felt the shakes from her crying and, what he suspect might be, fear subside. "Cece," He finally said feeling something warm on his fingers. He pulled them away slowly, finding the digits stained with red. "You're bleeding."

Cece closed her eyes cheek leaning on his chest and took a shuttering breath. "I'll get it later." Her accented voice murmured, husky from actually crying and from sharing her story.

John looked down at the red on his hand before pulling slightly away from her warm tiny body, surprised that he missed it right away. "I'll do it now."

* * *

Cece closed her eyes and leaned her head down on her arms as she straddled the desk chair, leaning forward and holding the towel in between her and the chairs back.

Johns large rough hands worked as gently as they could along the abrasion on her back, pulling out hard strands of hay and small rocks from the soil. His eyes squinted as he worked, running along the cut to clear away the bit of blood so that he could see better. Other than the abrasion on her back her skin was surprisingly perfect: pale, flawless, beautiful. He gnarled onto the inside of his lip to keep from thinking about it too hard.

"There's no way you could have gotten all of this out on your own." He felt himself finally saying low, as if it was a secret.

Cece shrugged, the little muscles in her back and shoulders moving under the pale vale of skin. "I could have tried."

John nodded. He knew the feeling. He had liked to take care of himself and his family too. But look at where that had gotten him. "So…Michael reminds you of Jacob."

Cece felt her lips twitch up just a bit as she hid them in her arms. "So much. Jacob was always beautiful and smart. He could feel things like I could. No one else knew how to do that…would have believed me."

"May did." John said pulling out a strand of straw. Cece made a little hissing noise, trying to hold in the pain. "Sorry." He mumbled, running the warm wet rag over it.

"May…knew." Cece said. "Sometimes people are born with it…with that ability to feel. They lose it as they get older; become desensitized to it." She stopped and licked her lips as she felt the warm plain of his hand slide around her ribs to hold her still. "Sometimes they…they go through a traumatic experience that opens them up."

John stopped, blue eyes darting up to the back of her head and neck, exposed by the long braid she had pushed over her shoulder to keep it out of his way. "Do you think Michael will grow out of it? That's what you think is happening to him right? A traumatic experience?"

Cece leaned her forehead totally down on her arms. She wanted to tell him no...lord knows she did. But she knew better and she was no liar.

John frowned and gave her back one last gentle swipe to make sure all of the caked on blood was gone. "I'm not hurting you right?"

Cece shook her head into her arms as the heel of his palm worked its way down. "No…no I don't think he'll grow out of it. Trauma is the harder one to grow out of because he knows that what he saw was real. It cemented all of those little hairs standing up on the back of his neck and the drop in his stomach when he felt something bad was…" She stopped, shaking her head as he voice gave out.

John nodded slowly to himself and looked down at the small dimples on the base of her spine where it met her hips. Clearing his throat, he reached down into her bag and pulled out one of the jars. "This one right?" He asked, leaning into her back and holding the glass around her.

Cece turned her head on her arms and nodded, feeling the warmth of his body. "Yeah…" She said, not trusting her voice to say much more than that. Not that it hid much. He had to feel the small shiver that went up her as her body was struck with the contrast of the air and his warmth.

John watched, trying not to breath to deep as he leaned back and shook the bottle like she had showed him for her foot. "No one's ever taken care of you after getting hurt have they?" He finally asked, unscrewing the lid and spreading the minty smelling paste on his fingers.

"Just May." She told him.

His eyes darted up to hers as she looked over her shoulder at him, seemingly checking what he was doing. "What about your dad…before it happened."

Her green eyes caught his, holding them for a moment before looking back forward, not knowing if she was uncomfortable or not. "Just May." She said again.

John let out another breath before moving his hand back to her, watching again as she shifted the slightest of bits away from the contact. He held silent, not willing to let her hear his voice as he watched her back give a barely noticeable twist at what he assumed was a stinging sensation. "If he doesn't grow out of it…can May teach him how to keep that stuff out? The scare crow and the…spirits or whatever. Can she teach him how not to be…that?"

Cece gave a little half smile to herself, full of sad mirth. "No…no you can't not be a medium."

"Can you keep them out?" John finally asked, pulling his hands away and whipping them off on the rag again. "All done."

Cece turned slowly, holding the towel to the front of her, covering her breast and stomach but not much more than that. The clear line of her collarbones showed along with the rib cage he had been holding so tightly onto. She was clearly, undeniably beautiful like this... vulnerable. He wondered how many people had seen it, remembering Mays words on the phone. _Dont be...how you are._

"No…" Her words made him jolt back up to her face fully. "But he can. And I can show him."


	11. Chapter 11

**Forever Fanfiction Lover22: Lol John the nightmare fighter! Norman is always either the night mare fighter or the nightmare (Mac…Marco…ect. Though most of the time those turn out good for me too!)**

**Leyshla Gisel: Probably! And considering the last person John slept with was a dead woman I'd say he's moving up in the world!**

**WinterIsComing1015 : Even strong mediums are humans. They have pasts to play off of and the scarecrow got right into her head and dug it out. Moving towards more intimacy and trust because of the names and because he knows where she is coming from now. Lol that's what I intended on with him cleaning the wound. A slow careful cautious intamcy. They both need it after all.**

**Ninaluvsathena: Lol you know me! Always got to have the build up otherwise its not nearly as *cough cough* satisfying.**

**Dalonega Noquisi: Fan fiction does that to me all the time! I always have to go back and make sure!**

**WaterWarrior6: Lol I know you love my sad chapters!**

**coconutcarter: Lol everyone wants John there when they're hurt so he can clean their wounds!**

**greeneyesonly: Woman you should know by now not to eat while reading unless you have a strong stomach. You know while I was writing that…I actually got hungry. I'm sick. I love knowing who comments! And John; what I got from the movie was that he was actually a nice family man that was trying to do right but put into a bad spot. When luck started going his way I doubt any of us would be able to not have the temptation!**

Chapter Eleven:

John peeked his head into the motel room the next morning. It was early…really early, the sun was barely peeking up but years of working his farm had made him an early riser. He expected to find Cece there, half asleep in bed, curled up around the blankets and pillows that he had left her with that night.

She was a fast sleeper. Her head would hit the pillow and the mental and physical exsaution and weight of the world would sag down on her, yanking at her body and mind until it was quickly and suddenly pulled under. He had to watch for a moment…her face, normally so set in a hard calm expression relaxed and her lips twitched up. Her little button nose crinkled as a strand of hair touched it.

He'd never experienced anything like what she had before this. The idea of living with it since she was a child was nauseating. That would be what Michael would have to deal with for whatever. At least Cece had had May with her to guide her and teach her; to tell her that she wasn't crazy. But then again…she was here and Michael and he had her…for the moment.

Looking around the room her found the cheap motel bed was empty along with the rest of the main room. Frowning he turned around for a moment before hearing the water running in the rest room.

Glancing to the side without thinking he saw the transparent shower curtain coated with water as the little red head ran her hands through her hair, completely unaware of his presence.

Cece opened her mouth and let some of the water fall into her mouth as she ran her hands through her wet hair, fingers tangling in the curls as she closed her eyes tight. She felt drained even after sleeping. The idea that Michael might be a medium was staggering, mind numbing. She didn't want it to be true. She wouldn't wish the curse that had plagued her and her life on anyone, most of all a child that had no one around him that knew anything about the subject.

John looked away quickly from the water dripping off her body before his eyes shot back under his eyebrows, chewing at his lip and knowing that he shouldn't look. He might have been possessed but he could remember what those soft lips felt like against his. It had been more than a while and the last woman he had been with had been Miranda who he now knew wasn't actually a woman but a…well, dead woman. If her reaction last night to his touch had been any indication it had been a while since she had been touched herself. Her skin almost repelled it, goose bumping and muscles twitching…

He shook his head to himself. At the very least he should call out and let her know he was there so that she wouldn't be startled when she came out and he was there. He could just leave.

But he didn't do any of those things. He couldn't even take his eyes away from the white skin. Water dripped from her lips and hair, curls stretching out in the water and coming to the middle of her back so that the streams of steaming moisture rolled down. She wasn't being like he had seen Miranda that day in his fields: overly sexual, on the verge or touching herself to tempt him. Instead she had an aura of almost innocence around her, though it was obvious from the drops of moisture dripping off the small peeks of her nipples that she could have just about anyone that she wanted.

Shifting he tore his eyes away and down to the ground as he felt himself tighten under his baggie jeans. With one last little look at the water drenched girl he stepped back and went to the door, opening it as quietly as he could before slamming it shut.

Cece's head turned quickly and she blew some water out of her lips. "John?" She called out.

"Yeah its me!" He winced at his own deception. "Michael wanted to go out for breakfast. Its Saturday. I figured you could talk to him about what we talked about."

Rubbing her hand over her face Cece nodded. "Yeah just…I left the bathroom door open! Don't look in here yeah?"

John closed his eyes and nodded to himself, rubbing his lips together. "Too late." He mumbled.

Cece shut off the water and reached for a towel. "What?"

"Alright!" John covered up quickly. "I'll get Michael and wait outside!"

Cece cringed as she drabbed her healing back off with the towel, looking at the still healing wound in her foot. What was it about this place that was messing her up so much? Sure she had gotten hurt before but this? She was normally more careful than this. Wrapping her hair up in the towel she shook her head and started to carefully pull on her cloths. This thing was powerful…very powerful. It was a monster than she had never quiet played with before. Nothing had dug into her brain that hard before and pulled out Jacob.

She looked up as the sound of Michaels half asleep voice rocked through the parking lot and into the small window that sat high in the bathroom. Grabbing one of her books she pulled the towel from her damp hair and moved to leave the room.

* * *

John was not immune to the looks that they were again given as they came into the diner. He didn't realize that his hand was hovering over the back of the small Cajun woman until the waitress looked at it skeptically. The early morning crowd was older and more tradition. Some of them were fellow farmers or church goers. A few were truckers that passed through and heard the gossip from each place they went. The table next to them held some police officers including the departed Milton's partner Jerry, a tubby man in a constant state of sweat and blushing.

Cece appeared to not notice, but inwardly she did and ticked off each raised eyebrow and frown. Slipping into the seat across from Michael and John she pulled the big hard cover book out of her bag. She slid it across the table to Michael as John continued to look around at the people. Some of them averted their eyes while others held his blue ones and watched the young red head.

"Whats this?" Michael asked her curiously as he pulled open the worn old cover. John glanced down at the old coffee table style book and its frayed and worn corners.

"Walls." Cece gave a little smile as she said it, remembering how she had learned in this same way from the old woman who had been calling her phone all morning. "Go on now…find your favorite ones." The pictures were of old castles, cities, really a history of different huge photo's of structures. For the book being so old the pictures were surprisingly bright and well defined, giving off details of cracks and gates, fences and fraying flags.

Michael, ever interested in anything the strange woman with the funny voice said, flipped the pages, finding the ones that he liked while John ordered him his usual pancakes.

Cece smiled slightly at the waitress but she was looking at them skeptically. Finally she licked her pink lips and leaned over towards John, speaking in hushed tones. "What did you tell everyone I was?" She asked.

John shook his head, his blue eyes catching hers. Mary had been the one that had always talked to the people at church or at school functions. Never John. But this was a small town. Everyone knew everyone and Cece was still a stranger...one that was hanging out with a man who's family had died under suspicious circumstances. People talked...and they were going to talk about this much more than him simply walking out in the middle of mass. "Nothing. I didn't say a word to anyone." He muttered as he brought his coffee to his lips.

She watched as the waitress set down her orange juice giving her another once over. "They're looking at me like I'm a prostitute."

John practically spat out his coffee, chocking on it as he brought his hand to his mouth and looked up into her wide, questioning green eyes. "What?! No they aren't!" He looked around and up quickly only to see Jerry the cops come up and over to the side of their table. His hands gripped his belt that was too tight under the muffin top of brown uniform. "Officer." He greeted, fingers nervously weaving along the handle of his mug. Law enforcement and some of the locals had never really bought the coincidence of his wife and their officers death/ disappearance.

"Rollins." Jerry said back, tipping his cap at the young woman with the farmer. "Miss."

Cece licked her lips for a moment and John could see her shifting slightly in her seat. She wasn't comfortable around law enforcement…something about them having some sort of power over her just because they had a shinny piece of metal. Instead of risking saying anything and getting in trouble she looked back at Michael as he held on a page. "You like that one Michael?"

Jerry raised an eyebrow as John brought the coffee up to his lips to hide any reaction he might have to Cece simply feeling uncomfortable and not choosing to acknowledge the other mans existence.

"Not a people person hum?" Jerry asked with a non humorous chuckle, flashing his belt buckle.

"Memorize the details…the bricks…rocks, gates." Cece said low to the child across from her when he nodded.

"She's a…um…" John wracked his mind for a moment. "Specialist."

"Specialist?" Jerry said with a raised eyebrow. "What kind?"

"Irrigation." John was a horrid lair and knew it but he tried his best to hang onto the fib.

Jerry looked at the little girl with her soft hair and pale skin for a moment, knowing that there was no way that could be true but not able to specifically prove other wise. Cece tensed but felt the back of Johns hand brush against hers, index finger discreetly stroking.

* * *

Cece tossed her bag down on the bed once she shut the motel room door, her foot and back still aching slightly. She took out her phone and looked at the missed call on it before falling onto her stomach on the hard bed.

It was May…she had called last night too, no doubt wondering what was taking Cece so long on this assignment. Now that she knew what kind of thing she was dealing with it would go smoother…faster she hoped. All the same if the research pointed to anything physical she wasn't sure how fast she could run on her foot as was.

Than there was the fact that Michael seemed connected to this thing. Regardless of it was because of the emotional trauma he had suffered or because of a deeper supernatural connection it resulted in the same thing: A young person with no spiritual guide. His father would try, like he had tried to ward off the scarecrow plaguing his lands, but it would not be enough. It was bad enough when people like her were guided…she didn't want another Jacob on her mind when she read in the paper and the house or motel had burnt down with John and his son in it.

John…

She rubbed her hands over her face as she thought about the man. She couldn't deny that she was starting to like the man. It was the affection he had for his son and his family; the fact that he tried even though he had no idea what he was doing. She didn't want to think about the way his hands had run across her back last night when he was cleaning out the cut on her back. Or the possessed kiss they had both tried to brush off. Well he had brushed it off just fine. Her not so much.

It had been way too long since she had been touched. That was all.

All the same it was better not to answer the call until she knew what to do at least about the monster.


	12. Chapter 12

**greeneyesonly: Lol well I'm sure she didn't expect him to just walk right in! Besides if I did that there wouldn't be enough sexual tension for us!**

**coconutcarter: Lol she's trying to focus on her work and be a good little demon killer but with John its hard!**

**VeritasKym: I think it's a personal choice of hers to not get attatched because of losing her family. I know right!? My parents have always insisted on living in small towns and it drove me insane as a teen that everyone in our church knew our business!**

**Ninaluvsathena and WinterIsComing01: Lol such a man…can't help but look! I would just ignore the cop too!**

**Dalonega Noquisi: Glad you're enjoying!**

**Forever Fanfiction Lover22: MERRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEE! RIP Merle….you can keep fighting my nightmare in heaven….or hell. Whichever one is more fun for you.**

**WaterWarrior6: It was hard not to like John! I was so sweet even when he was stressed out. And such a good dad. I wouldn't say a good hubby just because I think he should have fought back a little harder when being ridden by Miranda. But hey…he was possessed and hit his head. Still….**

**Leyshla Gisel: People are eyeing her because she is a stranger out with a man who's wife has died under suspisious circumstances and it's a small town. In the movie they were talking about how much people in the town talked and gossiped so I figured I'd play on it a little.**

**Chapter Twelve:**

"Can I build a mot?"

Cece smiled to herself at the question as she and Michael lay on the balcony while John went to check on the corn. He hadn't let Cece come with him….in fact she didn't even know he had gone until Michael had come to her door step.

She rolled onto her back and let her head hang off the worn, old, wooden boards. "Sure….build it on the outside of your wall."

Michael grinned and pulled up a blue crayon to start colouring in water on the outside of the black and gray wall that he had drawn and built up in his head. Cece turned her head to look at the young boy as he drew. She remembered the first time that she had done this though she had been much younger. She had been much younger though and thought it was a game.

Michael looked at her over his paper before he stopped. "My dad likes you."

"I like your dad." Cece responded.

Michael cocked his head at her. "I didn't think you guys did." He said quietly.

Cece gave him a little smile. "Sometimes…it takes people a little bit of time to learn how to get along." She told him. "Adults don't even play nice all the time." She shook her head and looked up at the endless sky above them, tilting her head to the side as a warm breeze blew through. Oddly enough it sent a chill up her extended spinal cord. She frowned as her phone went off next to her a few moments later. "Michael…do me a favor and go inside?"

"Why?"

Cece frowned and turned her head to look at him, hand reaching out and looking at the unknown number on the screen. "Please." She told him again.

Michael frowned and rubbed his arms as if he felt the chill in the heat too. Slowly he stood up as her rang again and picked up his papers and crayons, going into the motel room where she had her own set of protection charms. She waited until the door closed before looking back at the phone. It rang for a few more chimes. The numbers switched and changed over and over again, ticking by on the touch screen. Finally it silenced and she let out a little breath. She rubbed her hand over her face as she remembered the little boy, her little brother.

It was playing games, this spirit. In the day time it tormented and in the night it drew you out and killed. So what was she doing sitting here?

The ring of her ring tone went off again and she snatched the phone back up, sitting straight on the porch. She cracked her neck before clicking the button and holding the phone up to her ear, listening to the static but not saying anything. At first there was just a static clicking sound before a moment later a few deep breaths came.

"Cece?"

She closed her eyes at the voice and shook her head. "You're not alive Jacob." She tried to sound bored. It wasn't her dead brother. The scarecrow hadn't claimed that soul.

"Because you left me." The little voice said but it sounded different. It sounded like….she looked up into the window and saw Michael looking at her out of it. It sounded like Johns son.

"If I hadn't left I would have died too." She said. She knew that she should just hang up the phone but it felt…wrong to do it. Not that she put much stock into what was right or wrong these days. In fact she didn't put any stock in it at all.

"But than we could be together." The disembodied voice of a mixture of both Michael and Jacob said.

"Yes. Yes we could be." She told it. Silence came over the other end of the line. "You hear me demon?" She knew what she was really talking to. She smiled slightly at Michael who clenched his bunny in the glass, reassuring and not wanting to scare him. "We're both going to hell. One way or the other. But I'll send you there before me." She hung up the phone.

* * *

John rubbed the back of his forearm across his head as he climbed off the back of the tractor. He hated doing this…being back here but he knew what the little girl head said about the scarecrow protecting the land. Maybe, in the back of his mind, he thought that if he kept working the land, keeping it healthy and yielding that it would take it easy on them. He knew it was a stupid thought but it would not leave him and if he didn't send the yield to market he and Michael wouldn't survive. Period.

Frowning he walked around the tractor seeing the sticky red liquid leaking off of the turbine. Mary's blood. He closed his eyes and let out a harsh breath through his nose. It wasn't like he hadn't tried to get rid of it before Cece on his own again. He had burnt the scarecrow on its stake but it wouldn't catch and when he went back the next day the ominous figure stood erect as if nothing at all had happened.

He stepped away as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out and answering without looking at the caller id.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Hey handsome."

He frowned as Cece's light Cajun draw drew out the last word. "Um…hey?" He said confused. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah yeah. We're doing fine. Just checking on you all out there by your lonesome." Her voice was oddly…seductive. He didn't know what to make of it.

"Well, I'm almost done with the seeding out here…" Was it him or did she purr at that in her sound of acknowledgement. "I'll be back there soon."

"Cant wait." Cece's voice on the other end of the line murmured. "I'm waiting for you to get back. Maybe you can watch me in the shower again."

John swallowed down as he hauled a bag of the crop from the tractor and started walking towards the barn. "I'm sorry. It was an accident...I didn't mean…"

"Its alright. I knew you were watching. I liked it."

John stopped walking. He'd heard that before but not from her sweet pink lips. No that had come from a woman…a thing much different than her. "Are you possessed or is this not you at all?" He found his voice numb.

"Oh John…" She laughed.

"You can't have her." He tried to make his voice stronger, more full of conviction as his eyes darted to the middle of the field.

"And why not John? You're the one who brought her here; gave her to us." It was odd hearing it come out in Cece's voice and he found himself dropping the bag of corn to the ground. "She already ours."

John didn't even know that his phone had fallen to the green ground until he was skidding to a stop at the drivers side of his truck, yanking the door open and dragging himself in with more speed than he ever had in his life.

* * *

Cece let Michael rest against her leg as they sat in the room. She didn't like the idea of being inside but the sun was going to be setting soon and the phone call with his and her brothers voice rang in her head. Her laptop was open in front of her, going through scanned articles about scarecrows and how to kill them. As always the trick was to weed out the legend from the truth.

Michael leaned over and tried to see the screen while she focused on it, biting into the bottom corner of her lip as she read and scanned through pictures. "Ewww…that's gross!" He exclaimed and Cece's eyes snapped to him.

She winced and tried to turn the screen away from the gruesome illustration of the human body strung up by its neck and arms to the wooden poles but it was too late. "Michael! I said not to look!" She whinned at the boy but he looked at her with innocent big eyes.

"I've seen worse." He told her almost disappointed.

Cece pursed her lips together. "You know…if you want to talk about it you can."

"I DON'T." The boy said sharply.

Cece pushed her lips together. No she wouldn't want to either. In fact she hadn't and it had hurt her in the end. It made her grow up cool and separated from the word around her. She was just as much a shadow walking through the world as some of the things that she killed. She didn't want Michael to end up that way…if he lived long enough.

She was pulled from her thoughts as her cell phone rang again and she leaned over to look at it, seeing May's number on the screen. She let out a sigh, knowing that she couldn't avoid it forever. Picking it up she gave a quick 'stay here' to Michael and pulled herself up, stepping over to the bathroom and shutting the door.

"May?" She half expected to hear the soul crushing voice of her brother but it seemed her protective charms were still working.

"Have you killed it yet?" Her mentor asked her.

Cece crossed her arms over her chest and scuffled her feet on the chipping laminate floor. "Not yet." She mumbled. She could practically hear May frown on the other end of the line. "I think the boy is a medium." She said quieter so she was sure he couldn't hear over the tv.

"Well that is unfortunate." May said back. "For them that is…why is it taking so long? Because you're distracted?" Cece cleared her throat as her arms tightened around herself. There was no malice in the tone but she still felt chided. "Is it just the boy or is it the father too?"

"That's not fair…" Her tongue ran across her lips as she said it. She knew it was strange and true and she couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed. She felt a connection to the Rollins boy's. She knew that it was a distraction and this was why she didn't get connected to people. This was why her relationships with men had always been limited to one night stands, preferably in a town far away from her own. Most of the time she didn't bother to remember their names. But she knew John's.

"Get your head in the game." May reminded her. "Do what you went there to do. Everything else is up to them. There are other people that need your attention and skill set. That is not your life."

"I know." Cece Said quietly as she heard a car door close outside followed by the front door to the motel room being thrown open. "I've got to go." She hung up quickly and took a breath shaking her head.

John wrapped his arms around his son quickly, hugging him with his heart still slamming in his chest from the phone call. "You alright munchkin? Everything good?" His voice sounded urgent as his eyes darted around the room looking for the red head.

"Yeah dad. Everything's fine." Michael insisted.

John nodded as Michael pulled away and rubbed his facial hair. "Where's Cece?" He asked, his stomach still churning for some unknown reason.

"Right here." He looked up as she opened the door and looked at him curiously as he stood quickly and marched over to her, clearly checking her over. "Whats wrong with you?" She asked.

John didn't bother to answer before wrapping one of his arms around her neck and pulling her into his chest like he had when she had seen her brother. His other hand moved around to the back of her head, fingers digging into the soft strands of hair as relief flooded through him. There was no hint of seduction in her voice, no sign of possession or that something else had wormed into her body. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as her hands came carefully to his sides and she rubbed his back awkwardly.

"Rollins what the hell?" She asked quietly.

He shook his head. "John." He muttered into her hair. "It's John remember?"

"Yeah sure." Cece said softly, relaxing but continuing to rub his back. "Michael sweetheart…" She said beckoning him over as the boy looked confused. "Come on over here for your dad."

John let out a little breath and wrapped one of his arms around his son, holding him to his side while his other arm stayed wrapped around the slender column of Cece's neck.

"It's okay dad." Michael told him. "Don't chock her!"

John let out a little chuckle while Cece laughed and pulled her face away so that Johns arm loosened on her. She looked down at Michael for a moment before lifting her green eyes to Johns blue one. Feeling her stomach turn she briefly wondered if something had gotten into the room with him that was making her stomach turn. She hardened her voice and pulled a bit farther away until Johns hand slid to her shoulder instead of holding her. May was right. She wasn't part of this family. She shouldn't be held onto like one. She nodded slightly but John could see her face hardening as well.

"It's going to be okay guys. I promise." She said solidly.


	13. Chapter 13

**WaterWarrior6: Lol yes it was meant to be an awkward hug! John does think of her that way already…or is starting to.**

**Ninaluvsathena: Lol yes John is a little bit crazy but I think that the scare crow wants John to tend to the land and he thinks things will be worse if he doesn't.**

**Dalonega Noquisi: It is sad….:(**

**Leyshla Gisel: Poor Cece needs a bubble bath and a glass of wine to just lay back with lol. Maybe some more John hugs…**

**So I think I lost people on this story and that's sad. I haven't been getting reviews or anything. Please let me know if you are still reading. We are about to get into the action arc so yay!**

**Chapter Thirteen:**

John leaned on the railing as the early morning light came up and over the east side of the motel. It seemed to be rising right above Cecelia's room, pulling his eyes to the closed door even more readily than they were normally. He brought the coffee mug up to his lips as he watched, seeing movement brush against the blinds, a clear sign that she was already up and moving around. He didn't know how she did it. She went to bed late but always woke up at the crack of dawn.

Lowering the mug with a sigh he rubbed the back of his neck and forced his eyes down into the black liquid. She had withdrawn again last night. He didn't know why. He felt almost as though they were connecting. His heart had hurt when he heard her voice on the phone, so afraid that he had been lost to him for that time he was speeding back towards the motel. Not just because she was with his son but because the thought of her under some _things _spell scared the living hell out of him.

But he had lost her again. Not to a spirit; to her own focus and coldness; that stone look that came over her face when she shut down. After even a little under a month he could tell what it was, what it looked like. He frowned to himself. It was too soon to think of her like that…like part of his family. But it was hard not to at times with the way his son had attached to her. It was harder when he thought about what he had seen in the shower while the water ran over her pale skin. Then he remembered what her lips felt like.

He'd only ever been with Mary, his wife…than Miranda when he was possessed. They'd been young, barely out of high school when she had gotten pregnant with Lindsey and then he had never thought about it again. But Cecelia was so different than Mary that it didn't even feel the same. Mary hadn't believed him. Sure she had believed in him…until things got strange. He couldn't blame her for that but the fact that she had thought he would kill someone…that stung.

Looking up again he saw Cece coming out of the motel door turning to lock it behind her. He let out a little breath lips parting as he saw her in the white gauzy dress, feet clad in ballet let slipper to let the still healing hole in her feet heal. She turned and pushed the French braid over her shoulder, apricot hair catching in the early morning rays. His back straightened up as she caught eyes with his and he found himself sitting the mug down on the railing and moving around off the porch.

"Hey." He tried.

"Good morning." Cece found herself murmuring back as she pulled her car keys from her bag and turned to her car. She had talked again with May this morning when she woke up, going over her options for the scarecrow. May seemed eager to get her to move on and Cece couldn't deny that she didn't blame her. Sure her injured foot had caused her to take her time in case she needed to be physically active with this demon but she was healing up fine. She shouldn't be hanging around longer than needed because of a pair of baby blue eyes and the hint of family like warmth that passed over her when Johns arms looped over her shoulder and Michaels circled her waist.

John cleared his throat and leaned against the side of the truck. "You look…nice." He tried. "Somewhere special this morning?"

"Church." Cece told him before glancing into her truck bed. "I need some holy water." And guidance, she added silently to herself. She needed to remember what she had forgotten, that this was a job. John was a job. Michael was a job.

"Ah…" John mumbled rubbing the back of his neck as she unlocked the old truck. "Look Cece-"

"Maybe we should just stick to Cecelia and Rollins." She cut in quickly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

John frowned. "I don't want to go back to that." He mumbled rubbing his hands through his greasy hair.

Cece pushed her lips together hard and tried to brush off the comment. "Its Sunday. I was under the impression that you were a man of god." She said as she unlocked the truck and turned to face him.

John shifted on his feet, trying to follow her train of thought while she seemed set on ignoring his. "I was…"

Cece snorted slightly and leaned against the frame. "Most people become more religious when they have a brush with the supernatural; not less."

"Supernatural…" He confirmed. "Not divine."

"Symantec's." She muttered with a shrug of her shoulders before climbing into the cab. John dropped his gaze so that he wouldn't look at her long legs as she climbed into the truck. "I'll be back in a few hours." She told him squarely, starting up the engine before he could protest.

John shook his head and looked up into the sky as the truck pulled out. "Right….symantec's." he muttered shaking his head. That was just what he was sure what she would say when he tried to voice how he was starting to view her; more lost family than a contractor sent to protect them.

* * *

Cece dipped the bottle into the basin holding the holy water as the church goers filed out or talked about their week with their friends. A few of the groups looked at her as she crossed and blessed herself, resisting the urge to dunk her whole head to get the nagging feel of the evil that was waiting for her out.

"That's the one we saw with John Rollins." She could hear coming from a group of women to her left.

"Who is she?"

"We don't know."

"Mary has to be rolling in her grave…him moving on so fast."

"Does she know what happened to his wife?"

"Yes." Cece spoke up load enough for them all to hear and know she was listening. All the women, made up for their normal Sunday gossip mill, turned to her. "I know what happened to his wife." Without saying another word she closed up the bottle as they began to start whispering to each other again.

Cece shook her head as the gossip around her churned. This was again why she didn't really bother to stay once the job was done or get that involved with the people. In fact the only time she had contact with people really was when they were possessed and she liked it that way. It was easier to talk to a demon than to talk to a gossipy small town woman. She had come to notice that small towns were always like this. They talked about everything. Knew about everything in each others lives. Screw that. She didn't need other people knowing her business.

Shaking her head she tucked the bottle into her bag as she walked down the central aisle, never completely turning away from the cross before she got to the end, knelt to cross herself and exited back into the hot sunlight.

Frowning she squinted up at it and shook her head as she tried to not think about what they were saying about John…what they must think of him after the events on the farm. She knew she really shouldn't worry about it. It wasn't her problem. Her only concern should be the scarecrow and the peoples souls who it kept harnessed in its web. She would never fit into a life like this or have a family. What would she tell a boyfriend or husband about her past? What would people think in a small town when she never went to the doctor and hung her own protections around a house.

That was the guidance that she needed…though it could have come in a more tolerable form than hens. This wasn't her life. John and Michael were not in her life and she was not part of theirs.

* * *

Michael looked around the empty room. Everything was still for a moment before he sat up in the stiff bed looking around and rubbing his eye. He frowned.

"Dad?" He called out but there was no answer.

Pushing himself up from the bed he saw the herbs that Cece had hung over the door and window twist and sway, their dried leafs a blooms sending the fresh scent of lavender and sage across the room. The silence that passed over the room and the lot around them was eeiry and he couldn't help but call out for his father again as he held the stuffed rabbit by the ears.

Still no answer came. Walking over to the window he pushed open the floral drapes with his hand. The outside looked like it was almost as quiet as the outside.

He smiled to himself at the figure outside. He dropped the blinds away before practically running over to the door and throwing it open. Stopping before he stepped over the threshold, he felt the air being sucked rapidly from the room and into the humid air outside.

The stuffed animal fell from his hand before it rose to his small temple. "Cece?"

Her head was cast down, bright hair covering her eyes and the blood red of her lips. "Come outside Michael." Her voice was calm and seemed to be the only noise. He could feel the air going stagnant and stall but there was no noise of the breeze dying down. The grass surrounding the motel didn't flutters or sway and his dads new friends toes didn't make any noise as they curled bloody into the gravel. "What's going on?" He asked trying to picture the wall that Cece had told him to build but it felt fuzzy and he couldn't hang onto the visual so the mental block couldn't hold back the throbbing in his head.

One of the woman's pale hands lifted even though her head didn't. "Come here and I'll make it all better." He cooed.

Michael let out a breath that wanted to freeze in his throat as he stepped forward.


	14. Chapter 14

_**26RH**__**: Thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying so many of these stories!**_

___**: Thank you so much! We shall find out whats happening to Michael! **_

_**Ninaluvsathena: aww that sucks! I hate when that happens but hopefully that means when you look there are multiple updates. **_

_**WaterWarrior6**__**: Action of many sorts coming tehehe. **_

_**Dalonega Noquisi**__**: Than more you shall have! **_

_**coconutcarter**__**: Lol! That line is just about how I feel about small talk in any sort! **_

_**Emma0707**__**: That's good to know! Its just nice to know as you go if the story is interesting or not. I will admit that I feed off reviews too; that is to say that I get ideas from them! **_

_**L **__**eyshla Gisel**__**: Those pesky spirits! Always getting in the way of a connection!**_

_**I am so sorry everyone! I have had a busy few weeks; moving and having to deal with the real world and what not! I'm super excited to get this story going and hopefully finish off my tough Luck one that has been sitting in a corner, sad and but not forgotten **___

_**Chapter 14: **_

John dropped his keys to the dresser as he came back into the motel room after his long walk. He ran his hands through his now sweat damp hair as he looked around, not seeing Michael but hearing the tub in the bathroom running. He sighed o himself and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dark room in the bright of the now midday sun.

He'd walked at least a few miles, not in the right mind to be around even the son he was so worried about. His son was turning into whatever Cece called it…what did she call herself? A Medium? It sounded so strange; otherworldly, something more suited for a television show than the real world. But then again their entire world was now in some strange limbo between what he had always considered reality and what they had been thrust into.

Then there was this girl; this beautiful woman who he was learning more and more about. She was more damaged then even him he suspected, plagued by a life that he had only gotten a taste of. She seemed to open up to him and then suddenly crawl back into herself. He shook his head to himself. Who was he kidding anyway? He was…attracted to her. She was so beautiful, so exotic to him in her strange way. Even the way she moved when she walked; not dainty like Mary had been but cat like, almost like she was in a constant state of stalking something. Still when he had seen her sleeping she was so….peaceful.

Emptying his pockets, he didn't notice the charred remains of the protection herbs on the floor as he called out. "Michael! We're gunna go out and do something alright?" He clapped his hands together walking closer to the bathroom door. "Let's get a move on!" He stopped as his feet slid on water coating the floor, leaking out from under the door. He frowned hard. "Michael!?"

Pushing open the door hard his eyes darted to the over flowing tube before he ran to it, slipping and sliding as he grabbed his submerged son from the depths of the water in panic. "OH god! Oh god please no!"

Laying him on the floor he began CPR even though he felt like he could hardly breathe himself. Pinching his nose he pushed air into his sons lungs before he pushed down on his sternum and then began the process all over again, whole body shaking.

He muttered a 'thank god' as Michaels eyes snapped open onto to be struck into silence by his sons hand coming up to slap him hard across the face. "Fucking Pervert!" His sons roared as John starred at him in shock.

Cece sighed as she put her car into park in the dusty parking lot. She rested her hands on the wheel and looked forward, letting her eyes glaze over for a long moment. She felt a bead of sweat sliding down her neck as the sun started to set.

What was wrong with her? Why didn't she just kill it and get it over with? Why was that hotel room starting to feel like home? Those women in the church had made it clear that she was out of place in this small town. She couldn't disappear here like she could in Louisiana. She squeezed her eyes shut. If that were all true why did she feel so warm in John's arms? Why had she gone to the farm today and seen the inside of the house again, running her fingers along the counter tops and the back of the sofa. She had grown up in May's old shoppe. Nothing felt like this…looked like this. She didn't take family photos like the ones that hung on the walls. There hadn't been blankets tossed over the back of the sofa, or hand drawn pictures taped to the refrigerator. This was a home…she could still feel it soaked into the walls…

Pushing the door open her head snapped up as she heard a slamming coming from John and Michaels motel room. Frowning she hurried over to the door, pushing it open to see John wrestling with Michael as the young boy fought his with more force then any young boy should have. An unearthly scream emitted from his lungs as he slapped and punched at his father. Seeing her, the scream became louder and higher pitched.

"CECE!" John yelled holding onto his sons wrists while a trickle of blood came from his cheek from deep scratches from him sons tiny finger nails. "What is wrong with him!?"

Cece ground her teeth together and yanked the small knife from her back pocket, flipping it open as Michael started to fight harder.

Johns eyes widened in fright. "Don't!" He cried out.

Grabbing the blankets she used the knife to start the slit before ripping it all the way around, creating long, thick and frayed, floral strands. "Get him on the bed!" She commanded.

"NO!" Screamed the other worldly voice as John wrapped his arms his waist from behind and hoisted him up.

"Michael please!?" John begged desperately.

"Hold him down!" Cece commanded as she grabbed one of his arms and began to wrap the ripped blankets around his wrist.

John pushed down against his struggling son. He felt like he was in shock but at the same time could feel the heat of tears pushing against his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Michael!" He whispered while Cece leaned over him to tie his little wrists to the bed posts, praying with everything that she had that it would hold.

"You were a horrible father!" Michael screamed. "You fucked another woman besides mom! You stuck your dick inside her!"

"Don't talk like that!" John begged.

Cece yanked the knot tight and pulled herself off the bed, watching it jerk under the boy arms as he struggled moving to the bottom she ripped and new stand and tied it to his ankle before pulling it and his leg taunt. "It's not him John! He's possessed!" She moved to the next as John starred at his son's agonized face.

"Help him!" John begged before looking back at him. "Cecelia please! I'll do anything! Just get it out of my boy!"

Cece looked at him sharply, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him off as Michael began to toss insults at both of them. "Don't make deals John. NEVER EVER make a deal. Now get out."

"I can't leave him." John grabbed her arm tight. "Don't make me leave him!"

Cece grabbed both of his bicep's tightly. "Rollins look at me!" She waited until his panicked blue eyes caught her green ones. "I'll get it out…I know how. But you can't be here when I do. You HAVE to trust me. Please?"

John looked away from her and to his sons firing eyes on the bed.

"Don't leave me…." His voice came out childlike and innocent this time, making his father stop breathing, the air catching and burning in his lungs.

"John." Cece said quietly, turning his face back to hers with her hand on his cheek. "Please trust me." She whispered.

John looked at her closely, swearing that he could see her eyes watering too. He released the breath he was holding as he looked at her lips, her nose, her eyes. He nodded quietly and rested his forehead against hers. "I trust you…" He muttered before pulling away. Walking over to the bed, he kissed his forehead as Michaels teeth snapped and tried to bit him. "Its going to be okay Michael." He muttered.

"Fuck you!" Michael hissed up at him, jerking at the bindings while John pulled away and gave his son one final look before exiting, feeling like his feet were walking through thick mud.

Cece looked over at the door and shook her head before looking back at Michael, his arms and legs tied to the bed and totally white eyes staring at her. The snarl on his face didn't belong to the boy she knew. No not at all. It curled his face into something less than human, young skin taunt across his face. Slowly she leaned over him on the bed and he struggled harder.

"No!" The deep demonic voice hissed out as she sat on the side of the bed.

"Yes!" She snapped back. "Get out of that child!"

A smirk passed over the suddenly aged face of the young boy. "Why should I? He's young…submissive, easy to control. Maybe I'll have him kill daddy."

Cece hide the way her stomach dropped and topped her eyes from glancing back at the door where John had left. "Take me…" She finally said. She hated doing this; hated the mental pounding her body and soul would take. She leaned closer, hissing in the ear of the boy. "I'm more powerful, stronger. In my body you can go off into the world. You cant do that with a child."

The white eyes stared into hers his smirk still in place. "I can do a lot of things with your body."

The words gritted in her ear and her skin prickled like sand paper at being this close to a body possessed. She knew what it would do with a young limber female body like hers…had seen spirits work threw a person, wear them down worse than drugs, worse than the most aged prostitutes. They took pleasure in it while the person still warred and begged inside of their own trapped mind. "Take it…" She whispered before pressing her lips to the boy's forehead and opening up her mind and soul like a rat trap.

John shifted outside of the door in the darkness, focusing his eyes on the bug zapper. The blue light buzzed and electrified the air around it as moths and mosquito's fell into the trap. He closed his eyes in anguish as another zap filled his ears. His son was in there…if that was even his son anymore. And Cecelia…

"DAD!"

His eyes shot open at the sound of his son's voice screaming out his name. Cecelia had told him not to come in, no matter what he heard but he didn't hesitate as he swung around to the door and yanked it open.

"Michael!" He yelled as the door banged against the wall.

His son craned his neck from where he was tied to the rumbled bed. His little wrists pulled at the tight sheets used to hold him down. John's eyes darted down to where Cece was sprawled across the floor, her eyes closed and breathing still. He ran to the side of the bed, looking around wildly. "Is that you?! Are you alright?!"

"What's wrong with her?" Michael asked shakily, trying to pull at the ropes. "Why am I tied up!?"

"It's doing to be alright." John reached down and shook Cece's shoulder. "Wake up!" He begged. Cece's head lulled across the floor like a toy that someone had thrown to the ground in anger. Gritting his teeth together he reached down and pulled the small knife from her pocket and flicked it open to cut Michael loose. "Go to Cece's room." He told his son once he was free, gripping his arms. "Don't stop; don't look back. Lock the door and put Cece's herbs around your neck. Understand?" Michael nodded quickly, eyes wide before John gave him a little push to the door. "GO!"

John waited until the door shut and he heard his sons foot steps running across the dirt and gravel, before he turned back to the still body on the grimy carpet. Reaching down, he took hold of her shoulders and turned her over, bringing her upper body up and off the floor. Her head fell back in the air and he reached one hand around to support her neck.

"Cecelia? Cece?" He tried looking at her pale sweating face. "Come on…come back." He begged.

_No. _Cece's mind begged inside her body. _I told him to stay outside…._

_Yes… _Came a foreign voice.

John watched as her eyes opened, slowly, her eyes highly dilated. He let out a long breath of relief, pushing her hair back from her face. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice laced with concern.

_NO!_ Her mind screamed inside of itself as she tredded through a deep water. A small, sly smile pulled across her lips. One of her small hands came up and wrapped into the fabric of his collar. "I'm great." She murmured as he was pulled sharply down and her lips collided with his.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Maddy120296: I'm make it more clear in this chapter but it stated in the last chapter that Cece uses her body as a supernatural rat trap during a possession. She takes the spirit into herself because she can fight it off inside her better than the average person. Sometimes it just take a bit of time most of all because this demon happens to be pretty strong.**_

_**HermioneandMarcus: Thank you doll! Hopefully I'll be able to speed up my process now that we are settled into the new place and get these chapters up faster.**_

_**WaterWarrior6: Hehehe. Bad…good….something like that. We shall see.**_

_**26RH: Lol if she's not maybe John might get some loving….**_

_**Goldenfightergirl: Oh yes! Mahahaha**_

_**Leyshla Gisel: Lol I think we all have been waiting for this demon.**_

_**Dalonega Noquisi: Dun dun dun!**_

_**Just an FYI Guys…Hello Herman came out today and it was wonderful!**_

Chapter Fifteen:

Cece focused hard on the demon that was occupying her body with her, trying to find a weakness as she searched the walls of her mind for it. They all had something that she could use to get it out of her and send it back to wherever the hell it came from; some lapse of concentration.

But she was finding it hard to concentrate this time as she felt John's fingers run through her hair and his lips move with hers once his mind got over the shock of what he thought was her kiss. She could still taste him, still feel him in some way through her mind even though she had no control over her movements. It made it harder to focus than it had ever been.

She chided herself for her stupidity. Not that a locked door would have stopped the desperate father from getting to his only living child but she had known she would need a few minutes to override the power of the monster inside of her.

_Enjoy it…_the foreign voice in her chuckled. _You know that he is. _

If she had eyes to squeeze shut right now she would have. _Focus, _She told herself. _Forget about his soft lips and beard and those hands wandering along your scalp and sides…ignore that pressure pressing against your side…._

John curled his tongue hard around hers, leaning more over her as his lips fused against hers and his hands gripped at her. She tasted so amazing…so fresh…like spring air. He could feel himself pressing against the side of her leg, the hardening appendage telling him exactly what he wanted despite what had just happened.

Regretfully he yanked his lips away from hers, feeling her fingers clawing into his forearms. "You okay? You don't look so good…" He said looking at the dark circles around her eyes and the way her skin seemed paler than usual.

Her green eyes rolled at him. "Just what every girl wants to hear." She purred as she pushed herself up to straddle his waist and corner him in between the bed he was sitting against and this new, young body.

John gulped down, his pulse picking up in his ears as he felt the heat of her little body move under him. "Cecelia what the hell are you-" His words were cut off as her lips took his again, breast pushing against his collar bones as her teeth attached to his bottom lip and bit lightly. His hands grabbed at her waist as her hips moved against him. "Cece…come on…" He tried. "What's wrong with you?"

She gave a little smirk as her hands yanked lower under the collar of his shirt, ripping the buttons open before he could grab at her wrists. Holding them tight in his hands he tried to resist even as her lips came down and latched onto his pulse. It banged against her warm little tongue in a fast paced hammering while his eyes rolled back in his head at the feeling and he jumped through his pants and against her thigh.

Cece could feel everything in her own mind, see through her own eyes what she was doing but she couldn't control her actions. There was no point in trying. She had to focus on the issue of sending the thing occupying her body to hell. This was how she worked, using her body as a conduit to send things back to where they belonged. But this thing was strong…perhaps the strongest she had ever let embody her. Still she could feel the way her body was reacting under the farmer's rough hands, his fingers squeezing in and out on her hips and thigh.

"Cece…" John moan as her hips moved on top of his and her hands with his still attached at her wrists raked down his chest. "Stop."

"I can tell you like it." Her voice murmured low and seductive into his ear before her little tongue circled the shell of it. "Could tell how much you wanted me when you saw me in the shower…watching me."

Johns eyes shot open. Those words were…familiar. He yanked her hard away though her legs still stayed straddling him. "You're not Cece." He said as he looked at her face, her eyes sparkling more evil than he had ever seen the little hoodoo practitioner before. He felt his heart beat faster but not from the arousal pressed against her body. "Is she even in there?"

Her smirk widened into a grin before she licked her lips. "Oh she's here." She pressed her hips down harder. "Can't you feel that…she's so wet for you." She leaned in closer to him.

"Stop!" He tried to throw her off but he didn't want to hurt the young woman's beautiful body. His hands clung at her sides.

"I don't want to." The demonic strength held her to him and his body pinned to the ground. "And I don't think you want me to either _John._" She said his name in the sweetest most Cece like voice she could, feeling the spirit of the girl possessed wrapped around the tendrils of ebony possession, yanking at it and forcing her out. "All of this aching heat…"

_Don't fall for it John, _Cece begged through she could feel the heat the demon was telling him about.

John groaned slightly, begging his body not to react any more than it was. It would be so easy just to let go and let his mind believe it was Cece whose heat was radiating though her dress and panties against him. He shook his head and tried to arch his hips to buck her off of him.

"That's it!" She cackled, grabbing onto his hair with one hand while the other snaked under his waist band and around his hardness.

"Jesus Christ!" He hissed trying to yank her hand out but the other moved from his hair and wrapped around his wrist pinning it to the bed above him as she began to stroke him hard. John gritted his teeth and tossed his head from side to side.

"You really want this body…" She cooed. "Don't worry…its going to have you." She murmured before biting his neck.

John squeezed his eyes closed, hating his body for its reaction, how much he wanted the little red head that was pinning him down with unnatural strength. He didn't want that hand to be stroking at him so hard though…wanted soft whimpers and sweet words in his ear. "Just let her go. I'll do anything…just get out of her." His hips bucked up under her, trying to get closer without his willing them too.

Again the evil little giggle sprung from her, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Her thumb brushed over his tip, causing him to jerk before she grabbed the waist band of his pants, yanking the zipper open as he struggled before springing out. "Oh yes...you will." She laughed. "You're going to enjoy this body wrapped around your cock so muc-" Suddenly she gasped, her hand releasing him, neck extending and back arching. Her breast pressed against him as she gasped for hard breaths. "You….little….bitch!" She hissed.

John sucked in a breath as she released his wrist and shoved her off him as he breathed hard. He watched as Cece's body crawled across the floor, jerkily, reaching for her bag with shaking hands. "John!" She gasped out as she couldn't get the clasp undone.

_You can't! That's not possible! _The voice in her head screamed in a high pitch.

_I can… _She thought to herself hard. "Holy…water!" She chocked.

John gritted his teeth but pushed himself back into his jeans as he breathed hard, running over he grabbed the bag and tore it open. His hands fumbled as she convulsed on the floor, hugging herself into a ball. She…or it…whatever was fighting inside her soul, hissed and screamed out high enough so that he was sure it would shatter the windows. Finally he found the bottle. "Cece here!" He forced the bottle into her hand and she yanked the cap off. For a moment it looked like she was going to throw it away but, using all her strength she rolled onto her back. Blood began to trickle from her nose and the corner of her ear as the spirit clawed at the inside of her brain.

She poured the lukewarm water into her mouth as fast as she could, gasping as it burnt and scolded down her still semi possessed throat and chest, sending away the reminisce of the screaming demonic spirit. She squirmed as she felt it expel from her body, desperate to get out and to some semblance of safety. Hot sharp knives felt like they were stabbing and slashing at the inside of her, splitting through her head and her chest like the worst heart attack or migraine. She would have done that to Michael but it would have been unbelievably painful to the boy. Hurting herself was different. She could do that without remorse. Than when John came in she had gotten too distracted and it had too much purpose.

John looked at the body gasping on the floor. Her chest rose and fell with her eyes closed while her hand dropped to the floor, the bottle dropping from it uselessly. He crawled closer, looking at her wearily. "Cece?" He tried, unsure. She nodded slowly with her eyes still closed but he wasn't all together convinced. Quickly he pulled the zipper up on his jeans and tried to close his shirt…only to find that three of the buttons had popped off. "Prove it." He muttered.

Cece gave a shuttering sigh. "Shut up Rollins…" She mutter in an irritated voice and he couldn't help but let out a relieved little laugh.

John leaned over her and slowly helped her up, eyes running over her face and making sure that she didn't have that evil glint in her eyes or look like she was going to jump on him again. Even though if it was her in her body he wouldn't be all that opposed…his still slightly hard member was sure to remind him of that.

Cece shuttered as chills ran over her body and she felt sick after being so violated again. John's warm hand on her back sent the only bit of radiating warmth through her. She was sure he could feel her little body shaking because after a moment he leaned back against the bad and pulled her against him. Her head and body throbbed with the after effects of possession and what her body had been doing to him moments earlier. His hand, large and rough ran through her hair as she closed her eyes and let his very human warmth leak into her.

"Sush…I've got ya." He muttered. "It's okay…" He was trying to be comforting.

Cece opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I know." She said pointedly. "I've done this before….you? Are you…Michael?"

"We're fine." John said quickly ears turning a bit red from embarrassment before he pulled her head back down to his shoulder and closed his own as he let himself feel relief. Michael was alright...she was alright, he was alright.

Cece frowned a little at this reaction that he was having...more than that she hated that she was feeling a little bit more secure in this then she had ever felt in any of her other after possession rituals. She pressed her nose into his chest and closed her eyes, letting her arm rest on his stomach over his still open and semi button-less shirt.


	16. Chapter 16

_WTF: Yes yes! I am continuing this story. Sadly it didn't seem to be getting much interest but now that it is I shall work harder on it! (Nice name!)_

_MEW1230: Lol I'm glad I could give you another one! I think the only other one out there is Gurls bless her soul for being so awesome!_

_Random: Lol Mayyyyybbbbbeeeeeee. I'm thinking about one for when I finish this one! I am also writing a new Deuces wild fic and I try not to write too many at a time because I can't update as often._

_Roselovejoythewalkingdead, SPEEDIE22 and HermioneandMarcus: I'm glad you're enjoying!_

_Dalonega Noquisi: I know! That's one of the things I like about John. I normally write the bad guys and they aren't sweet. I can write John sweet and that's so new and touchy feely for me! It's a nice change!_

_26RH: Lol John wasn't fooled but god was he still tempted!_

_WaterWarrior6: Oh man I wish you could see it! It was sooooooo good! So many feels and such a different prospective than we normally get about those kind of things. Poor John…he's just soooo innocent in all of this._

_Leyshla Gisel: Lol Poor John and Cece. They just can't get a moment where both of them are in their own bodies!_

_Yay! I'm back and its going to move faster now I hope! This story wasn't getting must interest so I kinda put it on the back burner. But you all asked that therefore I shall give!_

_For those of you who haven't started it yet I have started a new Deuces Wild story with a Marco/OC. Its going to be fun and different than my last Marco fiction so feel free to head over to "Recollection" and take a gander at that too!_

Chapter 16:

Cecelia sat on the cold tile floor of the dingy bathroom in her motel room, her head leaning against the toilet seat as she breathed deep. She could hear the muffled voice of John in her room, talking to Michael and rubbing his back over and over again as the little boy attempted to fall asleep. She could understand that. Being possessed took a lot out of an adult and even more from a child. Combine with the fear of what had just been inside him he didn't want to leave the [protection of Cece's room; not until she had redone all of the charms and herbs on it and made sure that it was strong enough to withstand an invasion.

But she herself couldn't do that right now. Possession literally was making her sick, vomiting on and off for the last half hour as was her custom with strong spirits when she took them into her body and then forced them out. She closed her eyes against the sickness while savoring the cool of the toilet seat, rolling her forehead back as forth along it.

A few minutes later she heard the tap of knuckles on the old door. "Cece?" Johns voice came throw. "You okay in there?"

Cece cleared her throat and lifted her head. "Fine." She winced and coughed at the bile in her throat. She hated the sick feeling in her body after a bad possession…and that one had been particularly bad and strong. "I'm fine." She winced as she heard the door open. "No…go away…" She half pleaded, half demanded.

John frowned and sushed her, moving over to the sink and grabbing one of the coarse motel wash clothes. He ran it under the cold water, soaking it before coming behind her and kneeling, placing it on the back of her neck lightly, dabbing at her skin. "Its okay. I've been through two pregnancies. Sickness is nothing new." He muttered, pressing it tighter.

Cece nodded slightly. "I could have gotten it out faster if you hadn't come in." She muttered.

John frowned. "I thought you did this a lot…" He murmured more to himself than to her.

Cece pushed herself up with a sound of displeasure. "I do…but that thing is powerful." She turned around on the floor facing him as he tried to keep the cool compress on her neck. "And I had you to think about."

John's eyes searched her face for a moment. "You remember what-"

"Of course." She snapped at him, rubbing her mouth. She couldn't deny that she had been able to feel him, feel that warmth of another human being. "Michael?" She asked trying to get away from the subject.

John nodded quickly. "He's fine." He told her looking away. "You're sure taking beatings for this though."

"I have to kill it. Now." Cece told him, moving to stand up. "It's getting stronger and stronger. The longer I wait…."

John stood up with her quickly. If she killed it than she would be gone. He had to think of a reason for her to stay. For Michael, he reminded himself quickly. If his son was what she had said, a medium, than there were a billion things that could kill him. As she had told him, her brother had been taken from her by a spirit by just walking through a grave yard! "You're not in any condition…"

She frowned and shot him a look that told him to shut up, moving over to the sink to brush her teeth. John shook his head and gnawed on the inside of his lip, watching her for a long moment. Slowly he moved over to the sink, standing behind her in the tight space. Unclenching his hands from his side he put one slowly on her hip while the other moved the damp hair away from her neck.

Cece spat out the toothpaste quickly and looked at him in the foggy mirror. The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she felt a shiver pass down her spine. "What are you doing?"

John frowned stepping even closer. "You could stay here." He found himself saying out of no where. "After you're done. Just…have some rest and normalcy."

Cece froze suddenly. She had heard that before or something like it. One night stands telling her to stay the night. She closed her eyes for a moment. Part of her liked this…so much. This feeling of someone actually giving a damn what happened to her. The other part of her…

John gave a little smile down at the back of her head, pulling her closer, thinking that he was getting somewhere.

"No." Cece shook her head and opened her eyes. The temptation was there, so very much there but she couldn't. She had a responsibility. "John I can't."

"Cece…" He pleaded, trying to pull her back but she stepped back towards the door, rubbing the place on her neck where he had moved the hair away from her, like it burnt.

"Cecelia." She reminded him. "You're getting too attached John. This is business. I'm going to check on Michael." She took a deep breath, watching as his eyebrows furrowed. "I'll get rid of it…tonight. It will be over and done with and you two can start rebuilding your life, finally."

John let out a breath as the door closed and he heard her asking Michael if he was alright, her voice instantly softening again. HE was getting too attached?! So was she! He rubbed his face and shook his head.

* * *

"You can't go out there alone." John said from her doorway as he watched Cece pulling her long hair back. Michael was back asleep soundly in their room. Cece had reset up all of the charms, just in case but it had still taken him hours and hours to fall sleep with both she and John in the room. The two adults hadn't spoke a word to each other, had barely looked at each other in that time; John knowing what she was about to do, Cece knowing that he didn't want her to. That he wanted something that she couldn't give. "Not at night…not with the scarecrow. It will drive you insane….it will kill you."

"If I don't, it will kill you and Michael." She told him solidly. "I have to try. That's why you called me here right?"

John took a step forward and shut the door behind him. "Cece please." He murmured, making her look at him. "I'll go with you. It wont hurt me."

She shook her head shoving the last of the grave yard dirt, arrowroot and holy water into her bag. "You heard the girl John. It protects the land…not the man. I'll trap it, pull it apart; find a way to get rid of the flesh. Theres a cleansing ritual that should do the trick. That seems to be the best bet for killing it for good."

John sat down on the side of the cheap bed next to her bag. "And if it kills you?"

Cece frowned at him, putting her hands on her hips. "Then you know how to kill it."

John watched her moving around frowning. "What about Michael? About his...gift or whatever?"

Cece frowned not looking at him as she got ready. "Keep him away from exposed wounds in people and places. Don't let him in places where there could be wandering spirits. After I finish your farm should be fine. If it starts being too much, call May. She can help." She stepped closer to pick up the bag from next to him. "If I don't come back take the flesh to May's shop right away. Tell her who you are. She'll preform the ritual on it. It will protect the ones you care about."

John reaching out and grabbed her hand, stopping her hurried rambling. "I…I care about you Cece."

She looked at him closely for a moment. "I know John. What I meant was protect the people that you love." She slipped her arm away from him, looking down at the ground. John frowned as she picked up the bag and went to the door, tossing him the keys to the motel room. "Lock up when you leave? If…if I don't come back can you check out for me? I don't want this room on Auntie May's credit card for another month."

John nodded at her slowly, looking down at the keys.

Cece took a deep breath and turned the knob, closing her eyes for a moment. She had never felt like this when she was going out on a job. This was why she didn't get attached to her clients. She didn't want to be leaving people behind when she went back home. She didn't want them to be cut up if she died.

"Hey John?" She turned back to him for a second, leaning against the door while still gripping the knob behind her. "I care about you too."

John bit the inside of his lip and nodded and her. "I know too." He muttered.

She nodded and left, leaving him in the room with his thoughts. John leaned down and braced his arms on his knees, covering his head with his hands and pulling at his hair. It was too soon after Mary, he knew that. But he knew that he cared about Cece after this past month. He knew that she was important to him. She was beautiful, wild, full of energy and so damaged that sometimes it literally hurt to think about her past. It hurt more now to think about her future. Even if she lived through this, she would just be put into a situation like it next time she went out to help someone.

John frowned and closed his eyes. He tried to picture something different; tried to think about her coming back through that door. He couldn't.


	17. Chapter 17

_I'm back! I have been in Alaska for the past week with no internet so sadly I was unable to post anything….I know: technology detox almost! It was strange! On the bright side it gave me a lot of relaxing time to think about this story and Recollection and where I want them both to go! So without farther ado…._

_MEW1230: Yay! I'm glad that you are enjoying it and still reading!_

_26RH: They do and its so cute and sad cause its so not just a physical attraction. She wants to protect him and Michael and he wants to take care of her! So adorable._

_HermioneandMarcus: Thank you!_

_Dalonega Noquisi:_

_WaterWarrior6: mahahahaha we don't know if I'm that mean or not! That just makes me want to be like the walking dead writers and kill off main characters! Oh man…yeah I went and saw PSC in Austin the night it came out. I know many people didn't like it but I loved it! Probably because they were just watching it for Norman but the WHOLE movie was just so twisted!_

_PrincessPipi: AW! That makes me so happy! I will NEVER ignore anyones reviews! I love getting reviews and hearing feedback. 3_

_Leyshla Gisel: hahaha You know how much I like beating my characters up!_

_Chapter Seventeen:_

Cece took easy breaths as she pulled the tailgate to her truck open and yanked a red gas can from the back. She could smell the petroleum leaking out of the dirty old vessel. How many times had she used this thing? Burnt something 'alive' with it? Destroyed something terrible and then drove off into the sun set like some kind of add lone ranger?

She hadn't done that this time. She had taken as long as she could to heal here because she felt comfortable there…with them. But John and Michael were not her family….they weren't even from the same world as her! She had NO business there.

Yanking her bag over her shoulder she looked out into the corn field. The red sun shown over it, lighting the green stalks and some of the golden cornel's peeking out from the healthy ears. She closed her eyes as her same whispered out in a multitude voices over the wind: Jacobs, May's, Johns, Michaels. They were all trying to lure her into that forbidden, shadowed expanse.

"I'm coming for you either way!" She yelled out into the empty land, her accent echoing off the terrain. "You don't have to use them!"

Pushing forward, she took a step into the shadow of the first row of corn, feeling a chill instantly move up her spine. The ground felt more packed under her feet…as if it was expecting something. She twisted her neck to try and alleviate the pressure building against her senses.

It didn't take her long to move through the mental pressure, coming face to face with the freckled face of her departed younger brother. His red hair caught the sun light in the same way that hers did, soaking in the rays and reflecting them out in an even brighter shade of red. His hand was being help by a long teenage girl….the same one that had been in the bath tub that first night that John and she had been on the farm. She knew that the girl with the nail hole through her head wasn't real but she still felt her teeth grit.

"Let him go Lindsey." Cece found herself hissing.

The teenage 'girl' looked down at Jacob before looking up at Cece again. "You took my baby brother and family so I take yours."

Cece shook her head. "I didn't-" She stopped herself. There was no point in arguing with a warped spirit; a distortion that was nothing like the original girl. "Take me to it."

Jacob gave a little grin; an evil twinge of lips, further reminding her that these were not the children that they had been while they were alive. "It wants you dead." Jacob told her solidly, his little voice lower and more gritty than it had been in life.

Cece licked her lips, tarring her eyes away from her brother to look behind him at where the center of the field promised a fresh kill; either from her or from the scarecrow. "Good to know we have that in common." Her stomach felt sick as Lindsey laughed and turned, still holding Jacobs hand like he was Michael. She followed slowly after them, pulling her knife from her bag and holding it at her side slightly behind her, ready. It seemed odd that they would just take her to the center of the clearing and to the monster with a carton of gasoline in her hand, but then again she doubted that she would be preserved as very much of a threat.

Her blood began to boil at the thought. This thing had taken the shape of her dark past, it had brought her here! Worst of all it had shown her something she wanted but couldn't have. It _should _be scared!

She frowned as she pushed one of the stalks of corn away, coming to the middle of the now empty clearing, Lindsey and Jacob no where in sight. Licking her lips she set the gas can down on the ground, dropping her bag off her shoulder but still holding tightly to the grip of the knife, unaware of movement behind her. Her eyes clicked over to the left as she heard a rustling behind her.

She turned quickly, cursing herself for losing focus at the thought of Johns blue eyes only for a second. Over her not more than three feet behind loomed the menacingly dark silhouette of the scarecrow, the petrified skin on his face contorting in a way no human skin should be able to.

Cece didn't bother to hold back the sound of disgust at the sight of the creature again. It looked different moving and without a line of protection around her. "Gotta get rid of you don't I now?" She found herself speaking more out of habit than to the creature."

If it had an upper lip, it would have snarled at the little woman who turned her knife over and over in her hand. She waited watching it while the gaping holes of its eyes watched her, neither willing to make the first move. Cece never made the first move. She had done this too many times before.

After an earth shattering long moment the bag of hay, putrid flesh and barb like nails shot forward. Jumping to the side, Cece arced the knife upward, the seriated crawls digging upward into the tough flesh of its cheek. Cece grunted as she kicked out her foot hitting it in the 'chest'. It made an echoing roar of displeasure into the darkening surroundings, bouncing off of seemingly ever stalk of corn.

Cece took a breath as she watched it look back up at her, the hay from behind the mask of grey flesh weaving out into the open, jagged abrasion she had created. Snapping and crackling as they bent and stretched, the coarse fibers wove into the skin, yanking it together in a sick, twisted and uneven stitching.

"Christ." Cece whispered, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "We're going to have to do this fast now aren't we?" She asked it charging forward.

As one hand came upward to sink its claws into her, she stroked upward, using both of her hands to cut through the hay that held it to the arm. Roaring, the scarecrows other hand shot up causing her to gasp for air as it dug the claws of its other hand deep into the side of her neck. Struggling, her knife dropped from her hand as they came to grip around its wrist while it pulled her from the ground, suspending her in midair with her feet kicking.

This was it. This was the moment…the moment that her job got the best of her and took her life. The moment that killed most people in her line of work. The reason why only people like May, one in a million survived long enough. She would never have a life…never have a real home. Never have a family…she'd never be able to tell John, the man that had cleaned out her wounds and touched her like a flower, that he and his son were safe. It was over before it began.

Each kick of her legs tightened the cold fingers around her neck, warm liquid pulsing out of her neck around them. Stretching down the scarecrow kicked its severed hand over before snapping it back into place.

* * *

"Cece!" John slammed his car door behind him. "Cecelia!" He looked around wildly. All of the lights in the house were off and so was the barn. "Oh god please." He muttered before his eyes caught movement in the corn field. Summing up his courage he grabbed a sickle from the bed of his truck and raced into the tall stalks.

He bellowed her name again as he ran through the rows. He heard a screaming chocking sound and ran through the field into the middle of it where he knew the scarecrow was. Every instinct was telling him how stupid it was to run right in, but he couldn't just leave her out here.

Finally reaching the clearing, his heart beat into his throat at the sight. Cece had managed to cut one of the arms off of the scarecrow but it had gotten to her with the other. She was suspended high in the air, the dead flesh of the scarecrows other hand gripping into her neck. The boney digits clawed into her neck and dug deep gashes into the side. Blood from the contusions ozzed from around the blackened flesh of the scarecrows fingers and dripped down her long neck and onto the white tank top.

John screamed her name again as he charged forward, digging the curved instrument into the scarecrows…leg. It looked like a leg anyway. The demonic structure tumbled into the dirt, its fingers tearing along Cece's skin as it drug her with it. Its boney hand detached from the arm, still clenched at the soft flesh of her neck.

Cece breathed hard as she tried frantically to pry the fingers away. She took several deep gulps of air as John ran over to her and placed himself in between herself and the scarecrow.

"You can't have her!" He yelled at it.

Cece glanced behind her when she heard rustling. "Holy shit." She muttered as the little girl came out and picked up the hand drenched in her blood. "No!" She went to try and grab the flesh that she needed back but the little girl reached out and slapped her with far more strength than any human had. Landing on her stomach Cece scrambled for her bag, sticking her hand into it and yanking a flask filled with holy water out.

She fumbled with the cap quickly as the girl walked towards her and Johns turned back as he began to hack at every part of the scarecrow he could get to. That had slowed it down last time, having its hay gutted out by the tractor.

Flinging the water at the girl, she disappeared in a burst of sparks and embers for the moment, momentarily drawing John's attention. The scarecrow flailed and sent him flying. Cece jumped onto the mess of hay and limbs, tearing and clawing at it as fast as she could.

"JOHN!" She yelled, trying to wake him.

John shook his head and pulled himself up from the dirt, running back over and pulling the hay out with Cece, trying not to look at the blood that still dripped from her neck.

John watched as Cece leaned over the body of the torn apart scarecrow gathering up the pieces of flesh to use in the ritual so that it would not come back again. She was breathing hard and her pulse was pounding in her neck. On the left side of her neck thick blood, almost black in the night, trickled down from the deep scratches.

Cece tried to keep breathing evenly as she picked up the boney hand that had her blood on it. She tossed it onto the pile with the rest of the flesh. She gulped down hard and tried to still the adreline coursing through her body, the blood lose she knew couldn't let slow her down and the shakiness of fear. She nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her elbow. She turned to see John standing there looking down at her with concern.

Cece swallowed hard as he looked down at her. "Thanks…" She finally whispered. "For coming."

John nodded but his eyes were trained on her neck. He softly pushed the hair over her shoulder to look at the finger nail like gashes in it. He frowned at them before bringing his other hand to the unmarked side of her neck and looked up at her face. Dipping his head down he touched his lips to hers tenderly.

Cece gripped into his shirt as her lips moved with his. It was softer than he had kissed her when processed, far more tender and gentle. His thumb stroked her cheek as his facial hair tickled her. His other hand fell to her waist and pulled her in closer to him, desperate for intimacy. His tongue twisted around hers, pulling her into him slowly. Something was sparking in him, something more powerful than the lust he had felt before. It was a need to keep her close, to love her like he had been unable to love his wife in the end. To give her all of those things that he now knew she had been denied her entire life.

Finally he broke away from her, leaning his forehead against hers as he listened to her deep breath in the cold night air. "What now?" He slowly asked.

Cece opened her eyes, staring into his. "Now I have to preform this ritual."

That wasn't what he had meant, not at all. He meant was she leaving. Would she just disappear like she told him she would? "Will it be over then?" He asked instead and she nodded.

"Yeah…and it will set the souls of those it killed free." Cece whispered. She reached up and touched his cheek. "You might not want to be here for this." She told him.

John shook his head and tightened his grip on her waist. "I'm not leaving you out here."

John watched as Cece poured a circle of grave yard dirt around the flesh she had taken off of the scarecrow. "Whatever you see, stay inside the circle." She told him quietly.

She picked up the box of salt and took a breath before pouring it on the grey skin. "All that is good," She started as she reached up and touched her own neck. "All that is holy," She smeared the blood onto her forehead into a cross. John frowned as the ground beneath their feet started to shake. She flung some of her blood onto what remained of the scarecrow. He saw the little girl appear outside of the circle. "Take the blood of your servant, take my strength. Use it to purify this creature of darkness."

Slowly other figures started to appear: Tommy, the banker, Miranda, Jude, a dozen others that he didn't know. Finally Mary and Lindsey. John's breath caught.

Miranda snarled at her. "No!"

Cece lit a match and tossed it onto the pile of limbs. "It's time to find peace."

"Peace?!" Jude hissed. "There is no peace. You will never find peace conjurer!"

Cece picked up the holy water, walking around the fire clockwise and then counter clock wise while flinging the little drops of water onto the fire. "Maybe not." She whispered sadly, knowing that even now the damned were still trying to get into their heads. One last desperate attempt before the finale. "But you will." She muttered feeling herself going weak as the strength was sucked from her body, the blood connection using her as a conduit for these souls to travel in.

As the flames started to devour the scarecrow, one by one the figures started to disappear. John looked at his wife and daughter.

"John…we're not ready." Mary told him. He winced, but felt Cece's hand on his shoulder.

"Put out the fire Daddy!" Lindsey begged him.

Cece shook her head. "I hear it's nice on the other side….warm." She told him softly. "No pain, no suffering. Just glowing love. They'll be happy. Let them go and maybe you will be too. This is your chance, one that most people don't have. Say goodbye."

John nodded and gripped her hand on his shoulder as the figures dissolved. "I love you." He muttered to his wife and daughter.


End file.
